


being better

by Iwillseduceyouwithmyweirdness



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Dad, Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Needs a Hug, References to Depression, References to Suicide, Self-Harm, implied referenced suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-05-26 11:32:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15000017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwillseduceyouwithmyweirdness/pseuds/Iwillseduceyouwithmyweirdness
Summary: Peter didn't know when he started relying so heavily on his unhealthy coping mechanisms to make it through the day, but what he does know is that people finding out can only end badly - or so he thinks. When Tony finds out, Peter thinks his world is about to end, but maybe this is the second chance he needs to become what Tony always wanted him to be: better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so i hope you like this! i've already started the next chapter to this fic, and i have a lot of ideas about where this is going to go. I'll be adding more of the avengers team as i go, so hopefully it will be a good story! I mostly do this as a coping mechanism for myself, so please be aware that there are discussions of eating disorders and self harm in this and keep safe!

Peter had never really planned on Tony finding out about his self-destructive behaviour. As such, he hadn’t really considered what he would tell his mentor, and what he would try to hide. Looking back, he really should have given it more thought.

 

It had been a regular rainy Friday when it everything had fallen apart.

 

Peter’d had a typical day at school: he barely paid attention in his lessons, tried to avoid flash, skipped lunch, dodged MJ and Ned’s worried looks, and hurried out of school as fast as possible at the end of the day.

 

The sight of Happy waiting by the gates lifted Peter’s heart a little, and he practically bounded towards the car; _finally,_ he was needed for something with Mr Stark. His steps faltered a little when he saw Tony leaning against the passenger side door, sunglasses making his expression unreadable. Something in Peter’s gut told him that Tony didn’t just come along for the ride; every other time Happy had picked him up, his mentor had met him back at the Avenger’s tower.

 

Peter immediately jumped to the worst conclusions, his head wildly picturing all the ways someone could have taken May hostage. ‘What’s happened? Is May okay?’ He asked as soon as he was within speaking distance with Tony.

 

‘Everything’s fine with May, kid, don’t worry.’

 

This still didn’t ease Peter’s nerves; he was very aware of the fact that Tony hadn’t said that _nothing at all_ was wrong, just that nothing was wrong with _May_. ‘Oh, uh, that’s good.’ He murmured, his heart already beginning to hammer in his chest. Peter and Tony both seemed to pause and study each other for just a few seconds too long, before Tony reached behind him to open the door, gesturing to Peter to get in first.

 

Peter couldn’t sit still in the car ride back to the Avengers headquarters; he kept fiddling with his jumper sleeve where it hid a multitude of cuts and scars that littered his left arm. The longer the silence in the car stretched, the more agitated Peter got, and he found himself wishing that he could reach into his bag and retrieve his blade. Tony seemed to be watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye, which also didn’t help. He was shocked at Peter’s behaviour – whenever he had seen the kid in the past, he was enthusiastic and excited about everything. ‘So,’ Peter said awkwardly, ‘not that this isn’t… great? But why’d you pick me up from school Mr Stark?’

 

Tony’s expression shifted slightly, and his calm demeanour seemed slightly more forced before he spoke. ‘Happy said that some idiot had been giving you trouble, so I came to see for myself.’

 

Peter immediately started blushing. He felt like he had lied to Tony about Flash, given that he hadn’t witnessed anything bad happening, even though he wasn’t the one who told him. ‘Oh, I – uh, it’s not that bad Mr Stark,’ Peter lied, grateful that they were almost back at the compound; at least once they were in the labs, Peter could contribute more easily to the conversation. He had only been in Tony’s new labs a couple of times, and mostly for suit repairs (which he assumed was about to happen again), but he knew that they could make better conversation on common ground.

 

Peter was glad that his “internship” had started up again after the whole incident with the Vulture, but he was still a little uneasy around Tony; whenever he thought of him, _I wanted you to be better_ seemed to echo around every corner of his brain.

 

His mentor’s uncomfortably stiff posture didn’t disappear though, not even once they were back in their natural habitat of the lab. Despite Tony’s undeniable enthusiasm for the new modifications for the spider suit, something was _off_ about the whole situation and it made Peter’s skin itch at the thought of not knowing what was really going on.

 

Eventually, it was too much for Peter not to mention. ‘Mr Stark, is everything okay?’

 

Tony sighed and leant on the edge of the desk, ducking his head. ‘Pete, Happy told me he didn’t think you were doing so well at the minute.’ He said, glancing up to gauge his reaction. ‘Like I said earlier, I know that this dick Flash is bullying you –’

 

‘It’s nothing,’ Peter said anxiously.

 

‘No. Kid, it’s not nothing. Happy told me he’s seen the bruises. Now, given your healing factor, they would have had to be really bad injuries, or very recent. Plus, he said that your texts to him have been shorter, and mention nothing about being attacked so badly that the bruises stay for days. So, I looked at Karen’s logs about your health.’

 

Peter’s eyes widened; Karen always told him that if he wouldn’t let her phone Tony about his self inflicted injuries, and the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day by the time he suited up, she would make a note of it. That way, her safety protocols weren’t broken. He couldn’t think of an excuse for his physical state before Tony started talking again. ‘There were signs that you aren’t getting enough nutrition. Kid, I didn’t think that I would have to explain to you that with your increased metabolism, you need more food than an average person. It seems that Karen thinks you have been eating less than even a normal person your age should.’

 

Peter swallowed thickly, ‘I’m not hungry.’ Tony just raised an eyebrow, frowning when Peter’s stomach rumbled in protest.

 

‘Uh huh, and what dumb excuse are you going to give me for all the injuries that Karen thinks are self inflicted?’

 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe the suit is broken.’

 

‘Wrong answer, kid.’ Tony’s voice was dangerously low, and he seemed to be trying very hard not to shout.

 

‘I don’t know what you want me to say, Mr Stark.’ Peter’s excuses were flimsy, he knew, but there was no way he was about to have this conversation with his mentor. Especially not when he might get the suit taken away again. He would do anything to make sure that didn’t happen.

 

Tony’s anger flared, and it made his voice echo off the walls as he spoke. ‘Okay. Fine. You think the suit is broken? Friday, can you please scan both Peter and the suit and see if there are any problems I should know about with either of them?’

 

All the colour left Peter’s face, and he desperately glanced around for a place to run to; he didn’t want to see Tony’s expression once he knew for sure that Peter had lied to him, and that he was barely eating. The lift seemed like the best escape route, despite the fact that Peter wasn’t 100% sure what floor they were on. As soon as he started moving, Tony called for Friday to initiate some sort of security protocol, but Peter was too stressed to really consider what it might do.

 

He soon found out, however, because the lift wouldn’t open, no matter how hard he slammed his fist into the button. He felt trapped and it was bringing back memories of the building falling on him. Suddenly, he was gasping out sobs, tears streaming relentlessly down his face. Peter _had_ to get out of the lab. He wanted to run and not stop until his legs gave way. Anything would be better than being trapped again.

 

Peter barely noticed that he was punching the lift doors until strong arms caught hold of his hands and pinned them to his sides. This just made him struggle more as the penned in feeling overtook him.

 

_Quickly, he was back in the rubble, lying on his front. Water seemed to be dripping off the debris into the puddle in front of him. The homemade suit didn’t dull his senses as well as the one that Mr Stark had made for him, and he was hyper aware of every detail around him. Peter couldn’t breathe; he didn’t know if it was because of the dust in the air, or the fact that a massive slab of concrete was pinning him down, but whatever the problem was, it was terrifying._

_It suddenly hit him that he might die right there under the rubble. When would they find his body? Would it take days? Weeks?_

_May would be devastated. They both relied on each other since Ben had died. He hated the thought of leaving her all alone._

_No one was coming to save him. He was alone. He was –_

‘Pete.’

 

Peter struggled harder. If he could just get his arms free, maybe he could pull himself out of the rubble.

 

‘ _Peter._ Kid, I need you to stop fighting. You’re hurting yourself!’ _That was definitely Mr Stark’s voice,_ Peter thought, confusion fogging his brain. He stilled his desperate attempts to escape, finally going limp in Tony’s arms. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. At first there wasn’t much to see – the lift doors were to his left, but a large table blocked his view to the rest of the room.

 

It quickly hit Peter that he wasn’t still fighting the Vulture. He was in Tony’s lab. _I’ve really fucked up this time; this is for sure going to make Mr Stark stop me being spider man._ At some point, Tony had lowered them both to the floor, and Peter was now sat leaning sideways against the lift. His legs were tangled uncomfortably underneath him, but he couldn’t find the energy to move. Tears were still streaking down his face, but now they were silent instead of the thick, painful sobs they had been before.

 

The more Peter looked around, the more it reassured him that he wasn’t trapped. _You’re safe,_ he told himself. _You’re not trapped. You’re not going to die._

 

It was then that he spotted Tony. He was crouched a little way off, eyes wide with poorly concealed panic. He looked devastated. Peter swallowed thickly, the events of the day suddenly rushing back into his memory. _Fuck._

 

‘Alright, kid?’ Tony’s voice was low and quiet, and he held his hands out in a placating gesture as if he thought Peter would freak out again at any second. Given the fact that Peter’s breathing was still shallow, and his heart was still galloping at a hundred miles an hour, he conceded that it was a possibility.

 

_You’re safe. You’re not trapped. You’re not going to die._ Peter kept repeating the same three sentences over and over again in his mind; it was all he could do to keep himself somewhat together.

 

Tony let out a long breath. ‘Pete, I’m going to need an update here, what’s going on?’

 

‘I’m fine. It’s nothing.’ He regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth; Tony’s face fell, and he shook his head slightly.

 

‘ _Peter,_ ’ he said again, frustration lacing his voice. ‘You just had a really severe panic attack and you’re not leaving until we’ve talked all this through. _Please,_ talk to me.’

 

There was a tense moment of silence. Neither Peter or Tony wanted to say the wrong thing, and they were both hoping the other would speak first. ‘I’m sorry Mr Stark,’ Peter whispered, closing his eyes so he no longer had to watch the worry form on his mentor’s face. ‘Please don’t take the suit away.’

 

‘The suit is the last thing I’m worried about right now, kid.’

 

Just as Peter finally got his breathing under control, Friday’s cool voice broke the tension in the room. ‘Scan complete sir. The suit is functioning as it should. Peter Parker shows signs of malnutrition and self inflicted injuries. These seem to be issues that have been present for a while. He is also currently displaying signs of anxiety. It would be a good idea to ensure that he calms down immediately.’

 

The room seemed to go deadly still. Despite the fact that Peter had his eyes closed and his head buried in his hands, he could still feel Tony’s eyes on him. It made his skin crawl sickeningly. Peter didn’t know if it was possible to spontaneously combust from humiliation, but if it was, he thought that now would be the perfect time for it to happen.

 

‘Alright,’ Tony said, as if he was agreeing with something. ‘Alright. Pete, I’m going to need you to breathe with me, okay? In – and out. Good. Again, in – and out.’

 

The fog and dizziness in Peter’s head seemed to disappear with each deep breath he took. It was taking every ounce of concentration he had to follow Tony’s instructions, and the sound of his voice was slowly washing way the memories of being trapped under the building.

 

‘How are you feeling now?’ Tony eventually asked, his voice still low and soft.

 

‘I’ve been better, Mr Stark, but I’m okay.’

 

Tony managed to smile a little at Peter’s response. ‘Good. Listen, I’m going to get up and make us some coffee, so why don’t you make your way to the sofa over there and then we can talk.’ There didn’t seem to be any room for argument in Tony’s voice, despite its gentleness. Peter conceded that, given what Mr Stark had just witnessed, he owed him some sort of explanation. He nodded numbly and watched Tony climb clumsily to his feet.

 

It took a few more minutes of deep breathing and listening to Tony hum while making coffee before Peter could find it in himself to stand. Even then, he swayed slightly as he rose, the lack of food he had eaten that day finally catching up to him. It was only a short walk to the sofa, but Peter’s legs felt like jelly and it took him twice as long as usual to cross the room and sit down.

 

Tony joined him shortly after, handing him a mug as he went to sit diagonally opposite him. Part of Peter relaxed now that his hands were full; it grounded him. In some strange way, the prospect of the conversation that was about to happen seemed easier now that he could curl up and hide behind his hot drink.

 

He took a sip as Tony started to talk, ‘so, I think it’s best if we start with the issues we were planning on talking about, and then circle back to what just happened when you’ve had time to calm down and process it.’

 

Peter nodded numbly, although he wasn’t entirely sure what he was agreeing to discuss.

 

‘Good. So, let’s start with the food thing, shall we?’ Tony didn’t pause long enough for Peter to think of an answer. ‘Was I meant to tell you that your super powers didn’t stop you needing food? I thought that was something which was abundantly clear.’

 

Peter’s stomach dropped, and it took him a moment to get his thoughts together enough to answer. ‘No, Mr Stark. I knew I had to eat.’ Tony raised an eyebrow and made a face which clearly said _then what is the issue?_ Due to some unknown force, Peter found that it was impossible to formulate any kind of lie, and the truth was spilling from his lips before his brain had time to catch up. ‘I know I _should_ eat better – I know that – in the beginning, I was just eating what I was before I got bitten, but it still wasn’t enough. I just – I just felt bad because Aunt May was working every hour in the day to get money for food for us, and I was still hungry. I – you understand that I couldn’t ask her for _more._ It wouldn’t be fair – so I just ate what we could afford. But then after a while –’ Suddenly, Peter realised what he was saying, and clamped his mouth shut abruptly. _Mr Stark cannot find out about this,_ he thought desperately.

 

‘ _After a while_ what, Pete?’ Tony prompted, his voice wary.

 

There was no way out of this, he realised. Already he had said too much for it to be glossed over and forgotten. _Me and my big mouth_ , he scalded, tears threatening to fall once again. ‘Yeah,’ he breathed, his voice strained even to his own ears. ‘After – after a while, it started to feel good that I was restricting food. See, it was proof that I was doing what spider man was _supposed_ to do. I was – I was making sure May ate well and didn’t over work herself. And the more I thought that being in control of what I was eating made me a good hero, the more I wanted to _be better._ ’ At this point, Peter glanced at his mentor, and the sight of his sad, brown eyes made Tony’s stomach drop sickeningly. But before he could say anything, the kid was talking again, each word making the void in Tony’s chest bigger and bigger. ‘And so I thought – I thought that I should eat less, because then May would have to buy less food. It started to feel _so good_ when I hadn’t eaten all day. My senses were easier to deal with – things were less overwhelming – I could focus in class better. Everything was under control.’

 

‘What do you mean _was_ under control? Do you not think that now?’

 

_Trust Mr Stark to pick up on the parts I was hoping would be forgotten._

 

‘Well – I mean – it’s fine. Sometimes I just –’ this was going even less well than Peter had imagined. He covered his face with his hands again. ‘Sometimes, I really want to eat. Like if May gets a take away, but I just can’t. It’s like I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be hungry. I – the only way I can describe it is that at some point, my brain got rewired, and now I can’t view food in the same way as before. I know that this isn’t healthy. I know that. But it feels like I am in so deep that it’s impossible to get better.’

 

Peter could hear Tony moving near him and felt the dip of the sofa a few inches away, but he couldn’t bring himself to move his hands away from his face. The whole situation was so painfully humiliating that he thought he might well die with embarrassment right there in Tony’s lab.

 

‘It’s alright, kid, just breathe for a moment. I can help you get better. For a start, you’ve officially got a pay rise for your apprenticeship, so now you can afford to eat. And the rest, we can work out together.’ There was a beat of silence, where Peter started to get used to the situation he was in before Tony started to speak again, his tone more worried than before. ‘Pete, there’s blood on your sleeve. Are you hurt?’

 

The air in the room seemed to crackle with tension. It was clear to Tony that Peter was shaking, and he felt more than a little bad for raising the anxiety levels in the lab again. The truth was, he had no idea what he was doing. He had never been very good at the emotional side of mentoring Peter, but he loved the kid dearly, and was willing to do anything to make sure he was okay. Tony just hoped that he didn’t fuck this up. ‘Please can I take a look at your arm?’

 

Time seemed to slow as Peter thrust his arm into Tony’s waiting hand. He already knew what would be found under the sleeve: a multitude of cuts, all in various stages of healing. There was no way for him to explain away what his mentor was about to see – it was, after all, exactly what it looked like.

 

Peter looked away as he felt his sleeve being peeled away from his skin with gentle hands. Every part of this was making him feel worse. Maybe if Tony was angry, and shouted, then at least he would be getting what he deserved for causing so much worry and making such a scene. As it was, all of Tony’s concerned looks and gentle words were setting his teeth on edge.

 

The sharp intake of breath that Tony let out did nothing to make Peter feel better. ‘Please don’t touch them,’ he blurted out before Tony could recover enough to reach out.

 

Peter hadn’t realised how much he didn’t want anyone to ever touch his scars until Tony nodded and relief flooded through him. ‘These need to be cleaned up though. If I get the first aid kit and supervise, are you up to bandaging yourself?’

 

‘Yeah, I can do that.’

 

Tony gave Peter a tight smile and patted his knee as he rose. Somehow, this disaster of a day was still managing to make him feel a little less alone, and the comfort his mentor was bringing was more of a relief than he would care to admit.

 

It wasn’t long before Tony returned and started to unpack the medical supplies on the seat in between the two of them. As Peter started to wipe away the worst of the dried blood, he was hyper aware of the fact that it was revealing more and more of his old scars. He worked in silence until it came to wrapping his arm in the bandage; at this point, Tony seemed to be itching to reach out and help. He could barely keep his hands still, and took to fiddling with his mug so as not to touch Peter’s scars without permission. ‘You’re doing a pretty good job of that on your own kid, how on earth can you bandage that well one handed?’

 

Peter kept his eyes locked on where he was securing the bandage as he spoke, so he didn’t have to watch Tony’s devastation for another time that day, ‘I’ve – uh – I’ve had a lot of practice.’

 

‘Are these all your cuts or do you need to sort out any others?’ Tony asked, his voice a little hollow.

 

‘These are all the new ones.’

 

‘Do you have scars elsewhere?’

 

‘No,’ Peter lied, not taking his eyes off the new bandage on his arm. The truth was, both his arms were covered in scars, along with his right hip and thigh. _But Mr Stark didn’t need to know that,_ he thought. _Anything to spare him a little bit of worry._

 

‘Those seemed quite bad, given your advanced healing.’ Tony prompted.

 

‘Yeah – I mean – I think that the struggling made them reopen.’ Peter murmured, blushing. The last thing he wanted was for Tony to blame himself for exacerbating his injuries. ‘They weren’t so bad earlier, but they should be scabbed over in a couple of hours.’

 

‘When did you last hurt yourself?’

 

Peter swallowed; this wasn’t something he could lie about, given Karen’s logs and his quick healing. ‘This morning, before school.’

 

‘Why?’

 

‘I just – I had a test today, and sometimes my senses are too much and without my headphones, there is no way I could pass my exams, and the pain – it helps me focus. It’s not like I could wear my mask for the test, Mr Stark,’ Peter Joked, glancing quickly at his mentor, praying he was smiling too. He wasn’t. It looked like what Peter was telling him was slowly breaking his heart. Peter continued quickly, hoping that he could ease some of Tony’s worry. ‘It’s fine; I don’t have exams that often!’ In truth, this was only a small part of the reason that Peter hurt himself, but he hoped that it would be enough to get Tony off his back for now at least.

 

‘Maybe we could make some sort of ear plugs that could tone down your senses when you need it, and that wouldn’t be visible to your teachers.’ Tony suggested. Already, he had a far way look on his face, as if he was deep in thought about the technology it would require to make.

 

‘Yeah, that would be amazing Mr Stark!’ Peter was keen to keep the conversation away from his self-destructive tendencies, and wracked his brain for questions to ask about the ear plugs.

 

However, he was too slow, and Tony was back to looking concerned within a matter of moments. ‘We can work that out over the weekend. I’ll phone May in a minute and sort out you staying here until Monday. I’d like to keep an eye on you and make sure we have an action plan in place for all of these – issues – before you leave.’

 

Peter internally groaned. Ordinarily, he would jump at the chance to spend the weekend with Tony, especially if they had a project to work on, but this time, he was desperate to never talk about the events of today ever again, and it didn’t seem that likely if he was staying for the weekend. Just as he opened his mouth to decline, Tony cut him off.

 

‘No, Pete, this is non-negotiable. I need to know you’re going to be safe if you plan on carrying on being spider man.’

 

_At least it looks hopeful that I could keep my suit,_ Peter thought dully.

 

‘So, about what happened earlier, are you ready to talk about that yet?’

 

Peter shut his eyes, his heart rate already increasing again. ‘No, not yet, Mr Stark. Please I –’

 

‘Alright.’ Tony said mildly, ‘hey, it’s fine. We can talk about it tomorrow, kid, I don’t mind.’ He cast his gaze around for a distraction, hoping to avoid Peter having another panic attack. ‘Why don’t we just work on the suit again for a minute? We can put this conversation on pause until you’re ready.’

 

Tony was already on his feet, making his way over to the work bench where Peter’s suit was currently in bits and plugged into all sorts of machines. Peter was excited about the new suit modifications. _And,_ he reasoned, _if they were carrying on updating the suit, then maybe it wasn’t going to be taken away._ He got to his feet gingerly, and started to make his way over to join his mentor.

 

Tony glanced up at the movement. He seemed to study Peter for a moment before he turned back to the suit, casually requesting for Friday to have some grilled cheese sandwiches sent down for them both.

 

‘No pressure, kid. You don’t have to eat all of them, just have some.’ He said once they arrived.

 

_So maybe this weekend would be stressful,_ Peter thought, _but if Mr Stark is going to be this understanding about everything, maybe he could finally get help to get better._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, sorry this took a little while to update! i'm hoping ch3 will be up quicker! this chapter has more graphic discussions of eating disorders and self harm, so please be careful, but i hope you like it!

Dinner had been difficult for Peter. Tony had decided that the two of them would go to a restaurant nearby instead of eating with the rest of the avengers team. And while Peter could see that Tony was making an effort to make sure no one drew attention to how much or little he ate, he still felt a lot of pressure to please Tony, and as such was already overthinking his meal by the time it arrived. He had chosen a kid’s size meal – fish fingers and chips – because he figured it would be smaller, and therefore there would be less pressure to eat as much. Tony didn’t help the situation by not so subtly monitoring how much food actually made it to Peter’s mouth.

 

It seemed that Peter’s technique of putting food on his fork, bringing it to his lips, and then distracting Tony by asking questions and rambling on about nothing wasn’t going to work as well as it usually did with Aunt May.

 

‘Pete, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you’ve barely eaten anything. I was looking up how to help you earlier, and it said that I shouldn’t force you to eat, but that I had to make sure you ate _something_. And this,’ Tony gestured to Peter’s plate, ‘isn’t enough to sustain you. Have a little more, and then we can move on – it’s movie night tonight! Steve suggested that you could pick the film.’

 

Peter tried to smile, and glanced back at his barely eaten food. This was going to be a tough night.

 

He started doing the math in his head as Tony turned back to his food. If he had four chips, and one fish finger, that would be about a quarter of the food on his plate. _That’s manageable,_ he told himself, begging for his stomach to agree. The numbness in his body was already giving way to a sickeningly heavy feeling, making Peter feel like he was eating lead instead of food. _If there was an emergency right now, my webs would probably snap because I’m so heavy._ The thought was irrational, he knew. It was just that he had been getting so used to the _emptiness_ in his body that even the smallest amount of food threw off his senses.

 

Peter tried not to overthink too much as he shovelled the next bite of food into his mouth. He could feel Tony’s eyes tracking the movement of the fork, despite him trying his best to look like he was casually watching the other tables in the restaurant.

 

_At least it’s only Mr Stark here,_ Peter thought, desperate to find some sort of silver lining; _at least the other avengers don’t have to know that I’m weak._

 

In truth, Peter didn’t know if Tony would tell the others. He hoped that it wouldn’t be necessary, but Tony was impulsive, and it was hard to predict what would come out of his mouth from one moment to the next.

 

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his fork once again stilling in its accent towards his mouth. Tony’s full attention was on him in a heart beat, and Peter wanted nothing more than to flinch away from the intensity of his gaze; if he had thought that the subtle watching was bad, this was a whole new level of awful. ‘What do you need?’ Tony asked, praising himself a little for the way his voice didn’t betray quite how out of his depth he felt.

 

The quiet seemed to stretch between them while Peter thought about the question. _What do I need?_ The obvious answer was that he needed to stop eating. The guilt he felt about the fact that Tony was paying for his meal was immense, but it wasn’t quite as big as the part of him that told him that he hadn’t patrolled enough to deserve this much food yet. He needed to do more work if he wanted to feel good about eating. But that didn’t seem like something that his mentor would allow, at least not until he had run the medical tests that they were planning for tomorrow. They were make or break – he wouldn’t have the suit back until he reassured Tony that he was able to do his job. _So, what did he need? What could he ask for without feeling too bad?_ ‘Can you distract me please?’ The words were out of his mouth before he had time to consider what he was saying.

 

Tony raised an eyebrow. ‘Distract you from what?’ They both knew what he needed distracting from; Tony just wanted to hear the kid say it. Up until this point, Peter had been pretty evasive about his issues, and Tony would take any opportunity to squeeze out any more information about what he could do to help.

 

‘Eating. Please, Mr Stark, if you just – just talk about suit designs or tell me about your day, just _something_ so that I can focus on that instead of what I’m putting in my mouth.’

 

Across the table, Tony’s expression softened, and he leaned towards Peter slightly. ‘Okay,’ he said quietly. ‘Okay, but you’ve got to do something for me too, Pete. You need to start calling me Tony – Mr Stark reminds me too much of my father.’

 

Tony’s tone was still light hearted, but something in his eyes told Peter that this was more serious than he was letting on, and his heart clenched suddenly at the thought of inadvertently upsetting his mentor. ‘Yeah, of course, Tony.’ Peter said, trying desperately to show that he could be better; that he would do anything to please his mentor.

 

‘Good, kid. So, I was thinking – what if we installed two parachutes in your suit, just in case one fails, or if you forget to reinstall it? I don’t like the thought of what happened on your school trip happening again.’

 

Peter nodded, trying to focus more on Tony’s voice than the hand that was monotonously bringing tasteless food to his mouth.

 

It took another three quarters of an hour of Tony’s rambling for Peter to eat a quarter of his food. Thankfully, his mentor seemed as happy with this achievement as Peter was. He had no idea when it became surprising for him to eat more than a couple of mouthfuls per meal, but somehow this felt like a big change. _Maybe recovery wasn’t so scary after all._

 

They walked back to the compound slowly; Peter’s stomach felt odd with misuse, and he thought that if he moved too quickly, he might bring his meal back up, undoing all the hard work he had just put in.

 

His stomach rolled again as they entered the avengers’ living quarters; whatever they’d had for dinner left a lingering smell in the halls, and Peter’s gut obviously didn’t like it. Suddenly, he was even more thankful to Tony for taking him out to eat. It was getting harder to breathe again; somehow, Peter’s lungs weren’t working properly, and he tripped to a halt, hands searching wildly for something to grip. His left hand found the sleeve of Tony’s jacket. The material was just baggy enough that he could get a good handful of it without making it uncomfortable for Tony. ‘Are you alright?’

 

‘Yeah, I –’ Peter gulped another breath of air.

 

‘Hey, hey, you’re fine, Pete. Just take a second to breathe. We don’t have to carry on until you’re ready.’

 

Peter cast his gaze around the corridor. _Alright,_ he told himself, _find five red things._ Given Tony’s love for the colour, it wasn’t difficult.

 

  1. _Mr Stark’s watch_



  1. _The lamp shade_



  1. _His shoes_



  1. _The flowers on the window sill_



  1. _Tony’s Iron Man shirt_



Peter felt his muscles relax marginally, and his breathing eased a little. It felt childish to be clinging so desperately to Tony’s jacket sleeve, but Peter didn’t let go as they started moving again. There was just something so comforting about the way he could feel Tony’s every movement, and so long as he didn’t ask for Peter to let go, he was going to absorb as much physical contact as possible.

 

 

 

The rest of the evening had been fairly uneventful. The whole team had settled in the main living area for movie night. Clint had carried in a bundle of blankets, and paused to give Peter the cosiest one, before he dumped the rest in the middle of the room for everyone else to pick their own. It had been a bit of a free for all while everyone got settled; Natasha and Sam had shouted happily as they shoved to get the best seats, elbows flying everywhere. Everyone seemed take care around Peter, which both relaxed him and made him feel a little excluded from the group. _Still,_ he reminded himself, _I’m lucky they tolerate me at all._ He would take all the time they would give him, even if it was just the odd weekend here and there.

 

Steve (who seemed to be in charge of the event) had let Peter choose the film (Aladdin), and for the next 1 hour and 31 minutes, Peter almost felt whole again. _Almost._

 

Tony had left half way through the film to make some sort of important phone call, and by the time it finished, he still wasn’t back. Peter wanted nothing more than to go to bed and sleep off the anxiety of the day, but without his mentor, he had no idea where he was staying.

 

He watched wearily as the rest of the team said good night and filed towards what Peter assumed was the living quarters of the building. Anxiety was already crawling its way back up Peter’s throat and latching itself around his heart. Just below the surface of his skin, an old ache resurfaced that made Peter’s hands twitchy at the thought of grabbing his blade.

 

‘Pete,’ Clint called, violently ripping Peter away from his thoughts. ‘You look exhausted. I think Tony’s going to be a while, why don’t I show you to your room?’

 

Peter was across the floor in seconds, desperate to be somewhere he knew no one would walk in on him.

 

They were silent as they followed the path the other avengers had taken. Peter made sure to stay half a step or so behind Clint; he was hyper aware of all of his limbs and was certain that Clint would notice something was wrong if they walked side by side.

 

They stopped not far down the corridor, and Peter was glad that he no longer had to pay such close attention to his legs. ‘This is you.’ Clint gestured. ‘Tony had it made up specially – I think he wants you to stay and train with us most weekends from now on.’ Peter’s heart leapt and he could barely keep the excitement off his face. _Was Clint serious?_ If he was, it would be the best thing that had ever happened to him – even better than when Tony had first showed up in his Aunt’s apartment after school. But he had to be realistic. Until Tony asked him to stay, Peter would try to keep his expectations low. Clint kept talking, barely noticing Peter’s response. ‘If you need anything, Tony is in the room across from you, Banner is on your left – although try not to make him jump, we can’t really have him hulking out while we sleep – and I’m on your right.’

 

Peter nodded trying to take in what was happening. ‘Thank you,’ he managed once he realised that Clint was waiting for a response.

 

‘You alright, Parker? You seem a little distant.’

 

Peter’s heart stuttered. He knew he had let his guard down too much. Shame spread like wild fire through his chest, making his head spin. ‘Just tired.’ He shot Clint his best fake smile.

 

Clint squeezed his shoulder as he left, making his way to his own room.

 

Peter waited until Clint’s door closed, before he whorled around and barged into the room Tony had made for him. The door had barely closed behind him before Peter was crying. There was something so personal about the room Tony had given him. The walls were the same relaxing shade of sage green that they were in his Aunt’s house (Peter had once read that the colour green was meant to make people happier; it hadn’t worked yet, but he still held out hope that somehow the colour would ease his discomfort), and there was a framed print of Spider Man drawn in a graphic comic book style above his bed. Every part of the room seemed to be carefully curated, and Peter’s heart couldn’t handle the amount of effort that Tony must have put into making him comfortable at the compound.

 

It took Peter a moment to notice his rucksack on his bed, along with a little hand written note. He had to read it through twice to make sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him:

 

_Underoos!_

_Hope you like the new room! I would have liked to talk you through some of its special features, but this phone call is taking forever. Friday can give you a quick run through of everything though._

_I’m hoping that this will give you enough incentive to stay for the weekends in future so we can train you up a little. I’ve spoken to May and she loves the idea. We can talk it through tomorrow._

_Let me know if you need anything._

Peter was so full of conflicting emotions that for the first five minutes after reading the note, all he could do was stand and sob. Part of him was ecstatic at the thought of _training with the avengers_. It was like every single one of his childhood dreams had come at once. He was still in awe of the room, and the idea that it had special features intrigued him to no end – it was beyond him why Tony would put so much time and effort into making such a personalised bedroom, but he was so excited about it that he didn’t really have the capacity to chase that thought.

 

On the other hand, however, a pit of dread had settled in Peter’s stomach upon reading the note. Something about the tone, and the way that Tony had included Aunt May made him feel inadequate. Tony only wanted him to stay so that he could learn how to be a proper super hero. _Right now,_ a voice told him, _he was nothing but an embarrassment._ That was why Tony wanted him to spend more time with the avengers. It had _nothing_ to do with being more part of the team. Not to mention the fact that the last sentence set Peter’s teeth on edge. To him, it was just the wrong side of concerned. Somewhere deep in Peter’s bones, it felt like Tony pitied him; that he was only doing this because he felt bad for the kid that was bullied and bitten by some radioactive spider. Despite the fact that Peter knew Tony had only found out properly about his issues with self harm and food that day, he was convinced that his mentor had pitied him all this time. The thought made him feel increasingly nauseated.

 

Peter hugged himself tightly and wished that he could stop feeling the chilling creep under his skin that increased until it matched the rate of his racing heart. _This was not good._

 

It didn’t take long before he was dragging his backpack towards him with shaking hands and rooting around to find the little bag that was hidden under all of his books. As soon as his hands closed around it, relief flooded his body for a fraction of a second. _So Mr Stark obviously hadn’t searched his bag._

 

The comfort was short lived, however, and almost immediately, Peter was on the move, checking to make sure that the bedroom door was shut before he made his way towards the bathroom. He locked the door, and wrenched off his shirt, staring wide eyed at himself in the mirror.

 

His body looked mostly like it normally did. He could see his ribs prominently, along with the defined lines of muscle that traversed his torso. It didn’t take long before he was removing the bandage Tony had asked him to put on his left arm earlier that day.

 

‘Mr Parker,’ Peter jumped as Friday’s voice echoed through the bathroom. ‘It’s not a good idea to remove that bandage without an adult present.’

 

Bile rose in Peter’s throat. _Did Tony really think he was so irresponsible that he couldn’t even take care of himself?_ He’d been getting along just fine without help up until that point. The rage in Peter’s body intensified, ‘mute!’ He almost shouted, tearing desperately at the remains of the dressing.

 

Once it was off, he spent a long time studying both his arms. The injuries from that morning had scabbed over nicely, and Peter knew that it wouldn’t be long before they formed thick, pink scars. He pushed on one of them experimentally, and was disappointed when there was only a tiny flare of pain. He was going to need more to focus on than that if he was going to stand any chance of sleeping. It didn’t make sense to make the next set of cuts on either of his arms, given Tony’s plans of doing a health check in the morning. Peter ran his hands over his right hip, where another cluster of scars stood out in stark contrast to the pale skin that surrounded them. He knew that it would be easier to hide new injuries away from his arms, especially given that his mentor thought that the only scars he had were on his left arm.

 

Before he had time to over think, Peter was shoving his jeans past his thighs, and lowering himself to the floor. Once he had pulled his trousers off completely, he shuffled so that he was leaning with his back against the bath and his legs pulled at odd angles in front of him.

 

Sitting like this reminded him of before spider man, when he would come home from school, desperate for _something_ to dull the emotions that seemed to bubble away within him. Back then, he’d had to use his hips and thighs because he couldn’t risk May or Ben seeing the bandages and asking about them. Becoming spider man had also made him more reckless in that respect, he supposed, given that he healed so much quicker. Uncle Ben’s death had also meant that May spent more time out working – whether it was to mask her grief or bring in more money, Peter couldn’t always tell – so he didn’t feel the need to hide as much as he used to.

 

Next, Peter reached for the little bag he had brought with him into the bathroom. Inside it was everything he needed to hurt himself: bandages, plasters, some sort of alcoholic cleaning rub that Tony had given him (although Tony had thought that it would be used for any injuries sustained while Peter was spider man) and of course, a blade. Peter took it out with shaking fingers. No matter how many times he’d done this, the adrenaline that coursed through his veins as soon as his fingers touched the metal always surprised him. Peter took a deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves; he would need all the focus he could get for what he was about to do.

 

‘Mr Parker,’ Peter jumped again. He didn’t know it was possible for an AI to sound concerned, but Friday’s voice seemed a little urgent, despite how synthetic it was. ‘If you continue, I will have to –’

 

Peter had heard enough. ‘Mute,’ he said again, desperately trying to push down the guilt that was already blooming in his chest. Tony could never know about this.

 

Before he had time to think more about what he was doing, he ran the blade quickly over the top of his thigh, hissing out a breath in between his teeth at the pain. Peter closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the side of the bath. The relief he felt at finally having a blade back in his hand was immense, and he tried not to think about the fact that he had been in this exact position less than twelve hours ago. _This is getting out of hand,_ he punctuated the thought with another deep cut below the one he had just made, careful to avoid the surrounding scar tissue.

 

Peter made three more deep cuts. The issue with advanced healing was that he was forced to go deeper to get relief; too shallow and they would already be half healed by the time he was picking himself of the bathroom floor. His fingers were sticky with blood, and it was getting hard to hold the blade without it slipping in his grip. Just as Peter made to make another gash in his thigh, he was startled by an incessant knocking on the bathroom door. _There is no way this can be good._ He dropped the blade.

 

‘Peter!’ Tony sounded frantic. ‘Pete, can you let me in please?’

 

It was suddenly hard to breathe and the bathroom felt too small. Peter covered his face with his hands, desperately trying to think of a way out of this situation.

 

‘Hey, kiddo, I’m not mad, I just want to know you’re safe.’ There was a little pause while Tony waited desperately for some kind of response. ‘Listen, I can get Friday to unlock this door. We can either do this on your terms or mine, but it’s going to happen either way. _Open up_.’

 

The only movement Peter made was to pick up the blade again. _Go big or go home, right?_

 

‘Sir,’ despite the thick door muffling the sound, Friday’s voice definitely sounded concerned. ‘Mr Parker needs immediate assistance.’

 

Peter heard Tony mumble a muffled ‘ _shit_ ’ before the lock in the door was being turned from the outside and the man himself was barging into the room. Once inside, he closed and locked the door again, making sure Peter could see what he was doing. _At least no one else will see me like this,_ Peter thought vaguely. In truth, he didn’t quite believe that this was really happening.

 

Once the door was secured, Tony turned back to Peter. His heart seemed to stop beating for a second at the sight in front of him. The kid had never looked younger or more afraid in all the time that Tony had known him. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Tony was very aware of the fact that he could count all of Peter’s ribs, but what concerned him most were the numerous scars that littered his skin, along with the five fresh cuts that were spilling blood onto the bathroom floor. Tony sucked in a deep breath, noting the blade still gripped tightly in Peter’s hand. He crouched in front of him, making sure to get eye contact before he spoke. ‘Can I have the blade please, Pete?’

 

Both Peter and Tony were surprised at Tony’s calm, quiet tone, and the shock slammed Peter back into the present, reminding him exactly how much he had just fucked up. He squeezed his eyes shut.

 

Tony waited a beat to see if Peter would comply, before he started speaking again, desperate to make Peter comply. ‘You’re done, kid. Time to clean up.’

 

_You’re done, kid._ It reminded Peter far too much of the first time he had fought alongside Iron Man; he could still feel the ghost of pain in his ribs that had healed long ago. Shame flooded his body; _why was he always letting Tony down?_

 

Tony reached out and gently slipped the blade from Peter’s hand, slipping it into his pocket in one fluid motion. Next, he turned and opened the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a large first aid kit. He sat opposite Peter, leaning against the wall, placing the medical supplies between them. ‘Can I help, or do you want to do it yourself?’

 

Peter didn’t know why his mentor was being so kind to him, but he was glad he had the option of cleaning himself up. ‘ _I’m so sorry Tony.’_ He whispered.

 

‘I’m not mad, kid, and we can talk in a second, but we need to put pressure on these cuts right now. Are you going to do that or am I?’

 

Peter was moving quickly, dragging the kit towards him, and pulling out gauze and disinfectant. ‘Me.’ He muttered, praying that Tony wouldn’t read too much into his reluctance to ask for help. He worked in silence for a few minutes, until it came to bandaging his leg, at which point Tony started to speak.

 

‘Friday has settings that alert me if anyone in the building is in danger,’ Peter thought that Tony was doing a pretty good job of concealing the fear that he was obviously feeling; he had been around him enough to know that explaining the science of a situation was a nervous tick for Tony. ‘I’d just finished my meeting – I assumed you’d be asleep by now. But – uh – Friday said what was happening and that you weren’t responding. Kid, what happened?’

 

Peter shook his head, the pain from his leg making everything feel comfortably hazy. ‘It was nothing Mr – _Tony,_ ’ Peter felt indescribably awful about almost calling Tony _Mr Stark_ again after he had been specifically asked not to. _God,_ he couldn’t do anything right.

 

‘Nope. We’re doing this now Peter. You can’t just brush me off like earlier. Maybe the exam thing is part of this whole issue, but that’s not why you did this tonight. So what happened?’

 

‘I’m sorry Tony. I – I was just feeling bad about letting everyone down. I’m trying – but sometimes I can’t – and I’m meant to be a fucking _hero_ and – _Jesus_ – I can’t even look after myself.’ He took a deep breath and tried again. ‘Sorry. Sometimes I just – it feels like everyone knows that I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. And I’m trying so hard to _be better_ , but it’s not easy. I feel like I don’t know enough to be your friendly neighbourhood spider man, you know? You guys all have so much more experience. I’m sorry, I really am, Tony.’

 

‘There’s nothing to apologise for. Listen, Pete, I’ll let you in on a secret, alright? None of us feel like we’re enough all the time. Hell, I’m sure you’ve heard about my excessive drinking and awesome parties. And Cap? He spends so much time helping with the clean up after a battle because he feels guilty about the shit that he couldn’t stop from happening –’

 

‘But it would have been so much worse if he wasn’t there!’ Peter protested.

 

Tony beamed, ‘ _exactly,_ Cap feels inadequate, but it doesn’t mean that he isn’t a valued part of the team. Pete, we all know how hard you work to help people, and we’re all going to make sure you know that from now on. As for experience, I was planning on you training with us anyway, but you really seem to be doing fine on your own. Why else do you think I asked you to help me with Cap when we fell out?’

 

Peter glanced away, a blush creeping its way up his neck; he had no idea how he was supposed to take compliments. ‘I’m sorry you have to deal with this.’

 

‘Stop apologising, there’s nothing to be sorry for. Now, I think you need some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning, okay?’

 

Peter nodded, rising and following Tony out of the bathroom. The bedroom seemed even bigger than before after being curled up by the bath for so long, and he immediately felt overwhelmed. Tony seemed to sense the change in atmosphere as well and he stopped beside Peter while he figured out what to do next.

 

It didn’t take long before Peter’s hand found its way back to cling on the arm of Tony’s shirt. Just like before, neither of them acknowledged it, but both of them were aware that it seemed to comfort Peter. It was odd, he thought, given that Tony hadn’t really shown him much affection in the past, but now, he was doing everything he could to make Peter comfortable. What surprised him most was how happy he was to put his trust in Tony. Something about his presence seemed to remind Peter of Uncle Ben, and it just seemed so _right_ to seek comfort from him.

 

Tony took great care to tuck Peter into the bed, and make sure he had everything he would need. ‘Alright,’ he said eventually. ‘You get some rest. Friday will wake you in the morning – just come down to the kitchen and I’ll meet you there. If you need anything in the night, my room is across the hall.’

 

Peter nodded. ‘Night Tony.’

 

‘Night, kid.’

 

If anyone were to ask, Tony would definitely deny that he had a soft spot for the kid. In truth, Tony had always protective over him, and the day they’d just had solidified his resolve to do everything in his power to help Peter.

 

Despite how anxious the whole day had made him, Peter slept soundly for the first time in months. Part of him was starting to think that he could trust Tony to help him, and it was like a weight was being lifted from his shoulders. _Maybe he didn’t have to do this all alone._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so i know that this chapter is a little short and angsty, but i promise that i will fix everything as the story progresses! i was in two minds about whether to post this chapter as part of the next one, but i think it's best to keep them separate. on the plus side, that means that the next update should be within the next couple of days, so stay tuned! This chapter has very little graphic discussions of self harm and eating disorders, but the subject of suicide is briefly touched upon, so please stay safe!

Peter woke with a knot of anxiety in his stomach. Somewhere in the background, he could hear an incessant buzzing, and the tone of it was jarring his sensitive ears.  He groaned and rolled over, using his hands to block out the noise.

 

Now that he was lying on his front, his breathing was harder to regulate. Peter knew that he would have to get up soon; he had no desire to play asthma attack or panic attack today, especially after the shit show yesterday.

 

‘Friday?’ Peter croaked, cracking an eye open. ‘Can you turn the alarm off please?’

 

Peter was thankful that the beeping stopped abruptly.

 

It took another five minutes for Peter to find the motivation to stand, and when he did, the pull of the new cuts on his leg made him regret it instantly. He swore quietly under his breath, already making his way towards the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit from the night before.

 

Once Peter had everything he needed to redress his injuries, he dragged himself back into the nest of blankets on his bed, wishing he could stay curled up in them forever. It took a few more minutes of deep breathing for him to finally be ready to remove the bandage; part of him didn’t want to see how much of a mess he had made last night – he didn’t want to be reminded of what Tony had to witness. Just as he was reaching for the end of the dressing, Friday interrupted, ‘Mr Parker, Mr Stark has requested that you not remove your bandages without an adult present. Please meet him for breakfast, where he can assist you.’

 

Peter huffed indignantly. ‘I’m not a _child._ ’ Tony seemed to be under the impression that this was the first time that Peter had dealt with an injury – that he didn’t have the common sense to keep himself safe. Every part of his mind was screaming that he needed to _be better_. Tony expected more from him, and the first way he could prove to his mentor that he was more capable than he believed was to look after his cuts. _After all,_ he thought bitterly, _I’ve done this enough times to know what I’m doing now._

 

He tore absentmindedly at the dressing, not even bothering to look up when he heard a tap at the door. He knew it would be Tony, another look of barely concealed worry plastered on his face. Peter’s heart felt too shattered every time he thought of how he must be making Tony sick with concern, so he concealed the guilt with anger at Tony for finding out his secrets so easily. _It’s his own damn fault if he’s bothered by this,_ Peter tried to tell himself, barely believing his own words _._

 

The door opened a second later, but Peter still didn’t look up from his task, hoping Tony would take the hint and let him deal with the injuries on his own.

 

‘Hey, kiddo,’ Tony murmured, closing the door again behind himself. ‘Friday said you were changing the bandage. Next time, can you wait for me to be there so I can make sure it’s all looking okay?’

 

Peter could hear Tony shifting closer, obviously trying not to freak him out while also wanting to get a good look at the cuts. ‘They’re fine, Tony. I can do it myself.’

 

‘I know you can, but I’d like to be certain that everything is being looked after properly.’

 

‘I’ve been doing this on my own for years, Tony.’ Peter said, finally meeting his mentor’s eyes. He regretted it instantly. The look of hurt and worry on Tony’s expression physically hurt to look at. There was no denying that he was out of his depth and that he was hurting the people he loved despite not meaning to.

 

Tony very carefully edged forwards until he could sit on the corner of the bed closest to him, still allowing enough room for Peter not to feel trapped. ‘You’ve not been spider man for very long,’ he said carefully, keeping his eyes fixed on his lap. ‘Does that mean you were doing this before you got bitten?’

 

Peter froze. He had hoped that Tony would just assume that his issues were all to do with being spider man, and not that he was already pretty messed up when the whole super human thing had started. The silence that stretched between them seemed to be enough of an answer for Tony, because he eventually sighed, and let out soft curse.

 

‘You need to start telling me everything, kid. I can’t help you if I don’t know the whole of what you’re dealing with.’

 

‘I’m sorry, Tony.’

 

Tony nodded slightly. ‘I know, kiddo, I know.’ He reached into his pocket, finally glancing back at the boy in front of him. The truth was, he hadn’t been sure whether or not what he was about to do was right, but the fact that his kid – who was barely old enough to drive, and couldn’t even vote yet – was concealing so much from him had steeled his resolve. He pulled out the modified web shooters, and held them out to Peter. ‘Here.’

 

It didn’t sit easily with him that he hadn’t explained their purpose before Peter put them on. Nor did it help that the kid trusted him enough to not even bother asking why Tony was giving him new shooters despite just having finished upgrading the entire suit.

 

As soon as Peter let the metal close around his wrists, however, he knew something was wrong. The metallic click of the lock seemed heavier, more final, and Tony’s conflicted expression did nothing to calm his jangling nerves. ‘What is this?’ He asked tentatively, not entirely sure that he wanted to know the answer.

 

‘These will run the medical tests we talked about yesterday,’ Tony said vaguely, not quite managing to meet Peter’s eye.

 

‘I thought Friday would do those in that full body scanner thing you have?’ That was how Tony usually checked Peter for injuries after a rough mission, and he couldn’t quite understand why it wasn’t being used this time around.

 

‘Yeah, well you’ve obviously managed to trick that in the past, given the amount of scar tissue you seem to have on your arms and thigh, so I came up with this instead.’ Tony said bluntly. ‘They’ll stay on and measure things like heart rate and breathing until I’m satisfied that we have a handle on this.’

 

Peter’s heart stopped abruptly. ‘ _How long will that be?_ ’

 

‘You tell me, kid. But I need to know you’re safe, especially when you’re not at the compound, and this was the least invasive solution. I’ve added algorithms so I can be alerted if you panic, or don’t eat enough, or get hurt.’

 

Something in Peter’s stomach twisted painfully at _get hurt_. It seemed to affect him more than the reference to his food problems, mostly because it was so evasive. Tony was obviously most uncomfortable with that part of his issues. But to put him on 24 hour watch? _Not cool, Mr Stark._

 

No matter how much he tugged at the catches on the shooters, they wouldn’t budge, and Peter’s panic escalated rapidly. He was starting to feel trapped again. ‘Can these even shoot webs or are they just a fucking glorified HDC tag?’

 

Tony was a little taken a back at Peter’s language; the kid was normally so polite. ‘Don’t you dare take that tone with me young man. This is for your own safety.’

 

‘You’re kidding me.’ Tony’s expression didn’t change from stony frustration; he barely even blinked. _This cannot be good._ ‘You’re joking right Mr Stark? You’ll let me have my old shooters back and we can run the tests another way.’ The desperation in Peter’s tone made bile rise in Tony’s throat, but he had come this far, and he wasn’t going to back down now, despite how much he already hated this.

 

The feeling of rubble falling on Peter started with a soft tickle at the base of his neck, and spread through the rest of his body with sickening speed. He had to get a handle on this, or Tony would be alerted to his fear. _You’re safe. You’re not trapped. You’re not going to die._ He took a deep breath, repeating the phrases in a dazed loop.

 

‘I’m sorry kid,’ Tony spoke softly, looking crestfallen. ‘I can’t have you out there on your own without knowing what you’re doing, especially not if you’re going to keep using the suit.’

 

Peter seemed to tense up even more than before, and when he finally had the self control to look up at Tony without screaming at him, Tony realised just how badly he might have misjudged the situation. ‘Is this your version of fucking suicide watch?’ He whispered dangerously.

 

‘Watch your mouth, Pete.’ Tony sighed. He felt bad for the way that he had sprung the new monitoring system on the boy, but it was beyond doubt that Peter needed it to make sure that he didn’t do anything stupid.

 

‘Perfect. This is fucking perfect.’ Peter said, standing to pull on a battered pair of sweats over the new bandage.

 

‘I know,’ Tony said. ‘I know, and I’m sorry. But you’re venerable right now. I just want to help.’

 

Peter huffed a humourless laugh, and made his way to the door. ‘Look, I’m sorry Tony, but this is messed up. I probably would have worn these stupid things if you’d just _asked me_. But going behind my back? That’s pretty shitty, alright?’

 

Tony knew he’d messed up big time. He sighed, crumpling and putting his head in his hands. ‘I’m sorry Pete. You’re right. I should have just asked. I’m just – I’m out of my depth, and I’m so fucking worried about you.’ He heard Peter pause by the door, and the guilt at betraying his trust seemed to increase tenfold – _the kid shouldn’t even be listening to me anymore after what I just did_ , he thought vaguely.

 

‘I know you’re worried, Mr Stark, but this trust has to go both ways. I can’t trust you enough to talk about this if you don’t also give me the space to tell you things on my own terms.’ He took a step back into the room, closer to Tony’s crumpled form that was still currently slumped on the bed. ‘I’m going to go into the kitchen now, and I’m going to need you to give me some space for an hour or so. You can come and find me later.’

 

Tony nodded, barely holding it together while Peter left. As soon as the door closed, he burst into tears. He had really messed up. He knew that. It was just that he was so worried. Tony knew he had to make amends; that he wouldn’t be able to function properly until he had talked to Peter and apologised properly. But this wasn’t about him, he reminded himself, and he would respect the kid’s wishes to have some space for an hour. Tony didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such a sensible kid to look after, but he sure as hell was going to do everything in his power to make sure he never hurt Peter again, whether it was intentional or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh, so Tony is a little bit of a dick, but it's only because he loves Peter like a son. I promise they will make up soon and there will be more fluff and comfort! Please let me know what you think of this, because it really gives me motivation to keep writing <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little longer to update, i got a little caught up in my other Spiderman fic, but i'm hoping to keep the updates of this regular, so don't worry! this chapter is a little short, but i want to increase the pace of this, and having everything spread over the course of a couple of days so far is making it a little frustrating. That being said, i've already started the next chapter, so hopefully you wont have to wait too long for more! as usual, this chapter contains references to eating disorders, so please be careful!

Peter had stumbled into the kitchen in a daze of anger and panic. He hadn’t really considered the possibility that anyone else would be using the space, so the sight of Sam stood by the oven, calmly frying eggs took him by surprise. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now, it was hardly like he could go back into his room, especially not while Tony was still there, but he figured that Sam would expect him to eat breakfast if he was in the kitchen, and that _couldn’t_ happen.

 

‘Hey, Pete,’ Sam called over his shoulder. ‘You want an egg?’

 

Peter froze. ‘Uh, sure.’ The words were out of his mouth before he even considered the consequences of what he had just agreed to. He couldn’t believe the complete one-eighty he had just done because he wasn’t thinking properly. _Fuck._

 

‘One or two?’

 

‘One,’ Peter said, a little desperate to turn down the offer all together. But before he could say more, Sam was taking an egg out of the pan, and draping it over a slice of soft white bread. Peter was both desperate to eat it and itching run away at the same time, and he wasn’t sure which side was going to win. Sam slid the plate across the breakfast bar to where Peter was hovering, looking like he couldn’t quite decide what to do with his hands. It made Sam a little uneasy, given how many veterans he had seen with similar symptoms, but he was willing to let it slide until he had more information – maybe the kid just felt a little awkward being there without Tony.

 

They made idle chatter until Sam had cooked another egg for himself, and brought it across to where Peter’s plate sat untouched on the table. It looked like the kid hadn’t moved at all since Sam had first noticed him, almost ten minutes ago now. ‘Is something wrong?’ He questioned, studying Peter’s expression intently.

 

‘Nope,’ Peter spoke quickly, suddenly kick starting his limbs into action and sitting at the table.

 

Sam went back to his eggs, making sure to watch his breakfast buddy out of the corner of his eye. A full five minutes passed, and Peter still hadn’t even touched his eggs, despite the loud noises of hunger that his stomach was making. Sam put his fork down. ‘Alright, something is definitely wrong. What is it?’

 

A beat of silence. Peter seemed to be considering his words carefully. ‘Sometimes – sometimes I’m really hungry, but part of my brain just can’t register that. And – and I can’t– I can’t –’ Peter Let out a frustrated moan from the back of his throat. ‘My hands won’t work properly, so I physically can’t get the food to my mouth.’

 

That hadn’t been what Sam was expecting to hear the kid say; he thought that Peter would tell him that he didn’t know where the cutlery was, or that he lied and only accepted the egg to be polite and that he and Tony were going to go across the road to Starbucks for breakfast. But Sam works with military veterans. He’d seen worse than a kid who won’t eat, he told himself. They could deal with this. But it was Tony’s kid; Peter is the life and soul of any mission. He constantly cracked jokes and made the team fall about in stitches at their movie nights. He’s not supposed to be damaged like the rest of them. That is what he wants to tell the teenager who sits in front of him wearing a look of pure humiliation. But he doesn’t. Instead, he moves to sit in the seat next to Peter, and slides the plate towards him. The silence spreads as Sam cuts the first bite of food. It’s small. _Manageable._ ‘Open up,’ he says – voice soft and low – as he brings the food to Peter’s lips.

 

He can see Peter hesitate. He knows it’s not as easy as eliminating the hands from the equation to make the kid eat properly again, but it’s one less excuse. ‘Thank you,’ Peter whispers before he takes the food that has been offered to him.

 

They continue in silence for the next five mouthfuls. This feels sacred, Peter thinks. Any noise would ruin the moment. But his stomach is churning already, and he can feel the tug of anxiety starting to constrict his oesophagus. He knows that he will have to speak up. ‘That’s enough.’

 

Sam pauses, half way though cutting another slice of egg and bread. He nods in acceptance. ‘Just have this one last mouthful and then we can call it a day.’

 

Peter whines, but opens his mouth in resigned acceptance.

 

They both know how much of a triumph that is.

 

Tony arrives in the door way just as Peter swallows, and despite the argument they had earlier, Peter is overjoyed to have the comforting presence of his mentor by his side again. ‘Hi Tony,’ he calls, waving in an awkward and so very _Peter_ way. Both Sam and Tony grin.

 

‘Hey Peter.’ Tony’s manner is awkward. He seems to be fighting every impulse he has to run and hug his kid. But he keeps his distance, instead moving to the other side of the kitchen to put the kettle on. ‘Listen,’ he says turning back around again with an expression of mixed guilt and anxiety on his face. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for the whole web shooters thing, Pete. I can see now why it was the wrong thing to do, and I wish I had just asked you to wear them. I don’t want you to think this is an excuse, but it’s important you know that I only acted like such a dick because I didn’t know what else to do.’ He glanced at Sam for a fraction of a second before continuing his desperate apology. ‘If – if it’s okay with you Peter, I’d like to speak to Sam about this, given his experience dealing with this kind of thing. I can see he’s already helping with breakfast. He might also be a better option than a conventional therapist given that you won’t have to out your secret identity to him, so we can work through the whole issue, not just the parts that keep you anonymous. It’s obviously your call, but I think it’s a good place to start.’

 

As soon as Tony stopped talking, he started fidgeting. He suddenly looked young and nervous and Peter could definitely imagine him being a stressed and damaged teenager like him before he grew up to be an older, damaged man. The thought softened Peter’s heart a little. ‘Sure Tony. That sounds like a good idea. And about earlier – I know you were just trying your best. I’m sorry you have to deal with it at all, but next time, you need to tell me what you’re planning, okay?’ He shifted slightly in his seat. He had long since decided about what he was about to say next, but forming the words was a little more difficult. ‘I’ll wear these,’ he lifted his left wrist to emphasise what he was saying, ‘but only if I get to see exactly what they monitor, and you have to tell me how to take them off if I need to.’

 

Tony nodded quickly, and it was abundantly clear just how desperate he was to make amends.

 

‘Can I have some tea please, Tony?’ Peter asked, shifting slightly in his seat. He wasn’t sure how it had started, but whenever he was hungry, he would fill his stomach with tea instead of eating. It took away some of the hunger pains, and certainly made his stomach rumble less frequently. There were times when he would go through six or seven cups a day if his anxiety about eating was big enough. He hoped that Sam and Tony wouldn’t find out about that though; he was determined to get better and some things were best left in the past.

 

Peter was finally able to breathe again when the hot mug was placed in front of him. He curled himself around it, breathing in its sweet smell. ‘Tony, do you mind if – just for the morning – we worked down in the labs like we used to?’ Part of Peter recoiled away from the fact that “like we used to” was only last week; yesterday felt momentous. Everything had changed in the course of a few hours and he wasn’t entirely sure how to cope with it. ‘Only if you don’t mind.’ He added feebly.

 

A soft look flitted across his mentor’s face. ‘Sure thing, kid. If you’re going to wear the bands, maybe we could keep the rest of the weekend as normal as possible? We can make a plan with Sam later, and if anything comes up we can address it, but I think that it would be good for everyone to take the pressure off for the moment.’

 

Peter beamed; he hadn’t realised just how much he needed the reassurance that nothing was going to change drastically up until that moment. ‘ _Yes._ That would be amazing. Thank you, Tony.’

 

Tony smiled and ruffled his kid’s hair. On the way to the labs, Peter began to babble on about some modification ideas he had for the suit, and it almost felt like a typical Saturday for them both. Peter’s heart felt a little lighter now that things felt more normal, and he was more than a little relieved that he and Tony had made up again. The possibility of recovery was looking more and more realistic and achievable the clearer it was to Peter that Tony and his friends wanted to help him. It was going to be a long road – and he knew that recovery was far from linear – but he would take every good day he could get.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, i am so sorry that it's taken me so long to update this! I'm hoping that chapters will be more regular again now, given that i've already started writing the next one! for anyone who is interested, i'll explain the delay in updates down below, but otherwise, please enjoy the fic! as usual, this contains discussions of eating disorders and self harm, so please please be safe! any comments you have really keep me motivated to write too, so please let me know if you like this <3

Peter rode the high of his semi-normal weekend with Tony until Wednesday, when things started to fall apart drastically, and with sickening efficiency.

 

He had skipped dinner the night before, artfully avoided breakfast and thrown away his lunch uneaten. It was something his head was telling him to be proud of, but his heart was telling him Tony would freak out about. _God,_ he mused, _I’m such a fucking mess._

 

The sickening call for bloodshed had begun to work its way under his skin, making his muscles burn with the need for relief. Peter was already freaking out a little.

 

As soon as school was over, Peter was running. He didn’t stop until he had reached the alley where he normally changed into the spider suit. Today, however, he climbed the fire escape in his normal clothes, dragging himself across the familiar roof top with much less efficiency given his state of panic.

 

Somehow, Peter found himself crammed into the gap between an air conditioning unit at the wall that bordered the roof space. His heart was hammering an unsettlingly irregular beat, and his breath was coming in short gasps which sounded nauseatingly like sobs.

 

All at once, the craziest idea Peter had ever had came to him. He dragged his phone out of his pocket as quickly as he could; this wasn’t something he could afford to chicken out of.

 

**Calling: Tony Stark**

 

‘Buddy?’ Tony sounded cheerful. Peter supposed that his panic and malnutrition wasn’t yet at the point that he would be alerted by the modified web shooters; something he would have to remember for next time – he had more leeway than he thought. The knowledge immediately made him second guess his decision to call. _Did Mr Stark think he was bad enough to ask for help yet?_

 

‘Mr Stark,’ he ventured carefully, mindful to keep his voice as even as possible.

 

Tony hummed in response, and Peter could hear the whir of Dum-E in the background. _What am I doing? Tony is obviously busy in the lab. Why did I ever think he would have time to deal with me?_

 

‘I – how are you?’ His tone was polite and clipped. He could practically _hear_ Tony frown on the other end of the line.

 

‘I’m fine Pete.’ Tony paused for a nanosecond before he continued, ‘how are you?’

 

‘I’m –’ Peter tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. _Oh man, Peter,_ he chided himself, _please don’t be a little shit and cry right now. Please. Just this once._ ‘I shouldn’t have called, Tony. Sorry.’ He forced out, his voice more than a little wobbly.

 

Peter dragged the phone from his ear, pressing the **end call** button before Tony could formulate a reply.

 

**Incoming Call From: Tony Stark**

 

_Great. You’ve really fucked up now,_ Peter scalded, dragging his nails across the soft skin of his belly before he picked up the call.

 

‘Peter?’ Tony asked, his voice considerably more concerned than it had been the first time Peter had called. ‘What the fuck was that?’

 

Peter drew in a shuddering breath. He hated letting Tony down, especially when it was about his mental health; Tony had admitted he was in over his head with Peter’s _issues_ , so why should he think it was okay to phone his mentor for help with them?

 

‘Hey,’ the voice on the other end of the line tried again, softer this time. ‘It’s okay. Whatever’s going on, we can fix it. Please, just talk to me, kid.’

 

‘I – it’s just that –’ Peter tried, suddenly realising that he had no solid explanation as to _why_ he felt so awful. ‘I really want to hurt myself right now, Tony,’ he blurted instead, his face heating at the truth in the statement.

 

_Someone as good as Iron Man shouldn’t ever have to hear a statement as fucked up as that,_ Peter decided.

 

‘Shit. Okay, fuck,’ Peter’s muffled sob drifted down the line to Tony’s ear and a stone settled in the pit of his stomach. His kid was hurting, and he had no clue how to help. ‘Is there anyone with you right now?’ He asked, already summoning his suit and silently trying to find the boy’s location.

 

‘No.’ The word was barely distinguishable from the almighty gasp that slipped from Peter’s lips as he finally gave in to the sadness that had been filling him up for the past few days until he was simultaneously numb and feeling everything all at once.

 

‘Alright. I’ll be there soon, but can you keep talking? What do you normally do to distract yourself?’

 

‘I – the coping mechanisms that the internet suggests – they’ve never worked for – for me,’ he gritted out between uneven breaths. ‘I normally just have to wait it out until it’s just a dull thought in the back of my mind again instead of – _this_.’

 

Tony nodded as if Peter could see him. According to Friday, he was about two minutes out from the kid’s position. He just had to keep him talking until then.

 

‘Sorry.’ Peter breathed. ‘You shouldn’t have to deal with this.’

 

‘There’s nothing to apologise for,’ Tony said firmly. ‘I _want_ to help you, Peter.’

 

‘You shouldn’t have to,’ he repeated; _I don’t deserve this, Mr Stark._

 

The suit touched down on the roof delicately, and quickly retracted into Tony’s wristbands. It took a second of searching for Tony to spot the boy who was currently curled into and uncomfortably tight corner under a vent. By the looks of things, Peter had been crouched like that for a while and it made Tony nervous, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. ‘Hey buddy,’ Peter let the phone drop into his lap, his eyes darting to meet those of his mentors for an anxious second. ‘Why don’t you think I should help? I’ve told you I want to.’

 

_Okay, so we’re carrying on as if Tony was here the whole time – no easing into the hard questions I guess._ ‘I’m not worth help.’

 

Tony’s frown deepened. ‘Why not?’ he coaxed carefully, crouching down as he did so – half because he wanted to get on Peter’s level so as to make himself seem less intimidating, and half because he didn’t think his legs would support him much longer given the amount of anxiety that was currently pounding through his veins.

 

The kid just shrugged nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t in the middle of freaking out. ‘I’m doing this to _myself,_ Tony.’ He began, glancing dejectedly at his mentor. ‘I have no clue how to stop it, but I don’t deserve help when I don’t even know why I’m tearing myself apart.’

 

A chill ran down Tony’s spine. As much as he liked to think that he and Peter were starting to be open when it came to dealing with things like this, he suddenly realised that he had never heard Peter talk so nihilistically about his recovery. It was in sharp contrast with the fact he had phoned Tony for help, and he had no idea what their next move would be. ‘Bullshit, kid. You deserve all the help you need. Just because your head is telling you to – to hurt yourself doesn’t mean that it’s _you_ who is at fault here. It’s just a symptom of what you’re dealing with.’

 

Peter shuffled further into the crevice he was hiding in, his stomach growling angrily as he did so. Something about the noise set Tony’s teeth on edge and he licked his lips nervously, rocking back on his heels as he did so. ‘What did you eat last?’

 

‘Rice crispies.’

 

‘For breakfast?’ It was telling that Tony didn’t joke about how they were _the most boring flavour of cereal in the world_ , like he normally did. These days, Tony understood that cereal was about calorie counting and cost, not flavour and certainly not _sugar_. There would be no Lucky Charms for breakfast in the Parker house hold.

 

Peter shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the patch of ground a foot in front of his mentor. ‘Lunch.’

 

‘Today, though, right?’

 

Despite still being some distance away from Peter, Tony could hear his shuddery intake of breath at the question and immediately knew that the answer wasn’t going to be what he was hoping for. ‘Yesterday.’ Despite the tell-tale warning, hearing it be said out loud only served to unsettle Tony more.

 

‘Why don’t we go get a coffee and we can talk this through?’

 

Peter wanted to say no. He wanted to stay in this cold and uncomfortable gap for as long as it took for the world to seem a little less scary; he wanted to stay curled there forever, or at least until his skin stopped feeling like it wanted to slough itself from his body. Despite this, Peter never could say no to the friendly mechanic who had chosen to take him under his wing; he nodded his head slightly.

 

Since Peter had kept his eyes glued to the floor, he missed the look of relief that flooded its way onto Tony’s face. He could only see the vague movement of Tony pushing himself to his feet again in his periphery vision, but he could tell by his posture that Tony was simultaneously relieved and scared out of his mind. Peter seemed to have that effect these days.

 

 

 

Tony hadn’t expected Peter to look so spritely when he clambered out from behind the air vent. It had taken him by surprise when the boy had immediately begged to go to some sandwich shop down the road that _does the best sandwich in the entire city, Mr Stark. And probably the best in the state, but I haven’t tested that yet._

 

It was ultimately unsurprising that the server knew Peter – he was a friendly kid, after all, and Peter seemed to be a regular. At least, as regular a customer as you can be in a food store when you have an undiagnosed eating disorder. Tony needed to talk this whole saga through with Sam as soon as he could; things were moving too fast for him to keep up with.

 

They left the store each carrying their food, and Peter led them to a nearby bench where they began to eat their meal in silence.

 

‘You were right, kiddo, these are the best sandwiches in NY,’ Tony ventured once he was about half way through his. ‘The pigeons certainly seem to agree.’

 

Peter’s hand froze mid-way between his food and the birds he was feeding. Ever since they had sat down, Peter had only been taking a bite every fourth time he scattered bread on the floor for the birds, and even then, the mouthfuls he was taking were far smaller than each that he was giving to the animals. ‘They look hungry.’ He said simply.

 

‘So do you.’ Tony countered, keeping his tone fairly neutral.

 

Peter glanced over at him with a look that seemed to say _I was hoping we weren’t going to bring that up._

 

Tony sighed, rubbing his face. ‘Alright,’ he conceded, ‘just – just try to have a little more in between feeding the bloody pigeons.’

 

Peter chuckled.

 

It had taken another twenty minutes to finish the meal (with a lot of help form the small army of fowl that had honed in on Peter’s kindness) and by the end of it, Tony could tell that Peter was working up to say something important despite the quick chatter he was engaging in.

 

‘Mr Stark – _Tony_. Sir – uh.’ He began eloquently.

 

Tony hummed in response, keeping his eyes on an unusually coloured bird to his left.

 

‘I don’t think it’s safe for me to be alone right now. May is working nights all week.’

 

Tony’s whole world seemed to stop. _How bad was this really?_ ‘Okay. Come back to the compound, we can work on the suit, and you can stay over. Happy can take you to school tomorrow and I’ll phone May to let her know.’ He knew that his answer sounded practical and cold, but it seemed to comfort both of them to know the facts of what would happen that evening.

 

Tony didn’t know what to think when he felt Peter visibly relax next to him; he was glad, obviously, but also very afraid of fucking up and letting him get hurt.

 

 

 

They had worked until well past eleven, both hoping that Peter would tire enough to drop off to sleep without difficulty.

 

Tony chattered away, holding up most of the conversation, and not asking enough questions for Peter to feel rude for not listening fully. Somehow, despite his past mistakes, Tony always seemed to know how to settle him. Not long before midnight, Peter finally dropped off, his head resting uncomfortably against the Iron Man boot he was meant to be assembling.

 

If pressed, Tony would deny the flood of paternal love that rushed through him at the sight, and he would certainly worm his way out of any accusation that he had kissed Peter’s forehead after carrying him up to sleep in the room next to his own.

 

But Tony couldn’t hide his worry for the kid even if he tried. So as soon as he had ensured Peter was out for the count, he grabbed his phone and dialled the number that had been on his mind ever since he had landed on the roof top earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just a quick note, i know that the ending of this seems rushed and vague, but it's going to be talked about in more detail in the next chapter and it seemed to fit better this way!   
> for anyone who is wondering why there was suddenly a radio silence on this, first, i'm really sorry, and thanks for bearing with me. second, it was basically because i messed up in my recovery. I want this fic to be about Peter being able to deal with things better, despite his mental health issues, and i couldn't write that when it felt so unrealistic to me. I ended up writing about five different versions of this where he continued with all of his bad coping mechanisms, but as i said, i want this to be about recovery.   
> i hope everyone is doing okay


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so i think this chapter should have a quick disclaimer: I am not a medical professional, and Sam's advice in this is just what i think would be good for Peter specifically in this fic. it in no way is the only way to go about helping someone dealing with these issues, and obviously everyone's recovery is different, so please don't think that this is always going to be good advice to follow. other than that, i really hope you enjoy this chapter!   
> the warnings for this chapter are brief discussions of self harm and EDNOS, as well as discussions of suicidal thougthts.  
> Thank you so much to everyone who has left kind comments on this, it really does make my day, and it means that the chapters get updated quicker! so thanks, and i hope you enjoy!

‘Sam?’

 

‘Fuck, Tony, it’s late. What’s up? Has something happened?’

 

‘I don’t know what I’m doing.’ Tony confessed, his voice barely a whisper as he made his way back down the hall towards the labs. Every step he took away from Peter made him feel more out of his depth.

 

‘You mean about the kid?’ Sam clarified. Because _fuck,_ Sam was a good man. He knew that if Tony was having this conversation about himself, he would be at Rhodey’s swigging vodka straight from the bottle, or drunk calling Pepper ( _again_ ), not phoning him at this time of night. ‘You wanna tell me what happened?’ He pressed, his voice calm – like how he spoke to the veterans in therapy (he supposed Tony was a soldier of some sort anyway, if not yet a vet).

 

Tony let out a dry chuckle, as if the story he was about to tell was the funniest thing he’s heard all year. ‘So, I get this call at around 3:25 today, and its Pete and –’ Tony would be kidding himself if he said that retelling this story isn’t making his heartbreak go bone deep, but somehow he finds it in himself to continue, ‘and he tells me that he wants to hurt himself, Sam.’

 

The sound of Sam’s heavy sigh filters down the line to Tony, which only makes him more eager to finish telling his tale so that they can get to the important part: fixing spider man. ‘So obviously, I go over there – he’s hidden on this random rooftop near his school. He tells me he hasn’t eaten in over 24 hours. We get food – he mostly feeds the stray birds. And _then_ , he tells me he’s _not safe to be alone right now._ ’

 

‘Shit,’ Sam murmured.

 

‘Yeah, _shit_ is right. He’s with me at the compound now – asleep – but –’ Tony cuts himself off yet again; he’s not sure he can actually voice the suspicion that has been echoing around in his head all afternoon. ‘Do you think he wants to – to die?’

 

Admittedly, Tony’s question is more of a croak than any semblance of a sentence, but Sam seems to get the message given the soul deep breath he lets out, as if all the air has been punched from his gut.

 

Sometimes Tony forgets that the other avengers love Peter almost as much as he does. To them, he’s the cheeky one who plays pranks with Clint when they’re meant to be debriefing missions. He is the kid that they all think of when they tell the press that they’re fighting for a better future for the next generation. ‘I don’t know.’ Sam says, snapping Tony back to the present. ‘But we should keep a close eye on him in any case. Tony – sometimes, the best thing you can do is just ask the question outright. The shock value can often be the thing someone needs to get them to realise that what they’re considering is permanent. _No coming back_ , and all that jazz. I wish I could tell you a step by step guide to get your kid back, Stark, I do. But, he came to you for help, right? That’s got to show he wants to get better.’

 

Tony shifted, glancing around the dark lab. These days, it was difficult to find a corner of the room that didn’t remind him of Peter; the sofa made him think of film nights, the desks were all full of his random possessions – from unfinished homework to Lego models he built with Ned ( _to brighten the place up_ , he’d told Tony when he had started to arrange them around the room) – and his computer screen saver had long since been hacked to now display some Captain America meme that Tony didn’t understand. Only Peter would do that. Or at least, the old Peter would have – the one Tony had first met. He was painfully aware that he had his part to play in getting Peter into dangerous situations, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had contributed to this situation in any way.

 

_This isn’t a blame game_ , Rhodey’s disapproving voice seemed to murmur in the back of his mind. Tony closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face. ‘Yeah. You’re right.’ He was a little unsure whether he was replying to the Rhodey in his mind or Sam.

 

‘I think the best thing you can do is ask him to come back to the compound tomorrow after school and have a proper conversation about this, Tony. Right now, all we’re going off is what he’s told us, but we really do need to be asking some serious questions about what’s going on with him.’

 

‘Yeah,’ Tony said, fiddling with a pen he had found on the desk just to keep his nervous hands occupied. ‘He’s staying here all week – May is working nights and –’ He couldn’t bring himself to repeat the words again; he could barely wrap his head around the fact that Peter wanted to hurt himself at all, and it felt a little sacrilegious to keep bringing it up, no matter how true the fact remained.

 

‘Do you want me to be there too? It might be easier on everyone if the conversation isn’t one on one.’

 

‘Okay. Be here at 3, that way we can figure out what we’re asking him.’

 

‘Alright,’ Sam replied mildly, ignoring Tony’s anxious tone. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow Stark. Get some rest.’

 

Tony stayed seated in the dark lab long after he had hung up the phone. His thoughts were a mess of self-doubt and concern for Peter. He just felt so _helpless_.

 

Being a mechanic, Tony was used to being able to _fix things_. He was used to being able to see the solution to a problem clearly and take steps to get there. But mental health was nothing like the spider suit, or the Dumb-E. It was full of complications and unexpected issues. And what was worse was that Tony knew deep down that he would never be able to fix Peter; he knew that his kid would have to fix himself, and the helplessness that settled on Tony’s chest stung more than any punch he’d ever received.

 

But just because Tony couldn’t fix spider man didn’t mean he couldn’t be right there with him to help him get back on his feet. It was no secret that Tony would do anything for Peter, and he was more than willing to do whatever it took to give him the best possible chance of recovery, even if that meant having the dreaded conversation with him the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how many times is too many to get a character to say "yeah" in a fic? believe it or not, i deleted like 3 other times someone says it in this chapter. oops. I'm sorry this chapter is shorter, but i thought it would be nicer to update now than have a massive chapter that would take longer<3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, i know this took a little while, but i was puppy sitting for my neighbor, and so i didn't have the time to write despite the fact that i wrote about three pages of notes for ideas on where this is heading! So thanks for bearing with me! this chapter contains discussions of eating disorders, self harm, and a small mention of suicide, so please be safe!

Breakfast the next day was a sullen affair, filled with nervous pauses in conversation and Peter’s desperate attempts to reassure himself that nothing had changed.

 

 Tony spent most of the time staring down Peter’s spoon as it made its slow journey from the cereal bowl to his mouth. It was not the least bit helpful. Ultimately, they both knew that the elephant in the room would have to be addressed, but neither was currently brave enough to mention what had happened the previous night.

 

‘Pete,’ Tony had called, just as he was grabbing his backpack and preparing to head to school. ‘Can we talk for a second?’

 

‘I’m gonna be late for school, Tony.’

 

‘It’ll only take a second,’ Peter turned back towards his mentor, taking a deep breath as he did so. ‘Sam is coming over after school today, so can you come straight back to the tower this evening? He’s got a few ideas on how to help, and I said we would hear him out –’

 

‘But what about patrol?’ If he was being honest, the thought of missing being spider man for two days in a row was too much to handle; the crime was still going to happen whether or not he was out there trying to stop it, and the thought of missing the opportunity to save someone set Peter’s teeth on edge. Memories from the night that Uncle Ben had died started to filter to the front of his mind. He had to get away from this conversation _immediately_.

 

‘I think this is more important than patrol, Pete, this is your mental health we’re talking about, alright? How are you meant to help others if you can’t keep yourself safe first?’

 

And _yeah,_ Peter had been having the same sickening thought ever since homecoming, but hearing Iron Man say it was a whole new level of humiliation. ‘Alright.’ Peter croaked out past the bile rising in his throat.

 

Before Tony could reply, Peter was out the door and running through the endless corridors of the compound.

 

 

 

Peter hadn’t expected school to be good. It never was, what with Flash’s constant taunts and Ned and MJ’s concerned glances. But with the addition of Tony’s words hanging over him, it was a miracle that Peter made it all the way to lunch time before freaking out.

 

Thankfully, he’d had maths, one of the only lessons he didn’t share with at least one of his best friends. And this meant that he had managed to slip away into one of the bathrooms as soon as the lunch bell rang without any questions being asked.

 

The rice crispies Tony had made him eat for breakfast sat heavily in his stomach as he attempted to pace around the tiny cubicle; in reality, he could only take one small step before he had to turn on his heel and head in the other direction, but the constant movement soothed him.

 

Deep under his skin, the sluggish ache which usually had Peter reaching for a razor blade was intensifying, which only served as a reminder that Tony was right: _how can I look after other people when I don’t even know where to start to help myself?_ Peter stopped pacing, an idea suddenly popping into his head.

 

Somewhere in the distance, the bell signalling the end of lunch rang, and the hallways filled with the rumble of students heading to their next lesson. But Peter was frozen to the spot.

 

He waited until the traffic of students had died down before making his escape from the bathroom. It took less than five minutes to sneak unnoticed out of the school gates and back into the city he knew so well.

 

This was the perfect solution: Peter could patrol now and still keep his promise to Tony to work on his mental health later, all without feeling a drop of guilt (or at least, that’s what he would keep telling himself).

 

Before he knew it, he was back in the familiar alley which he always used as a base to start his patrols from. Peter pulled on the spider suit, quickly webbing his bag to the wall and offering a short greeting to Karen before he was climbing to the top of the nearest building.

 

_Good afternoon Peter,_ Karen replied mildly, _I wasn’t aware you had the day off from school today._

 

‘Yeah, I –’ Peter ventured, the excuse dying in his throat when he realised that he had been on this very roof top less than 24 hours ago with Tony trying to talk him down from hurting himself. A pit of guilt was fast making itself apparent in Peter’s belly.

 

Before he gave himself time to think too deeply about what he was doing, Peter was webbing across the city in search of trouble. ‘Anything to report Karen?’

 

_No, Peter. This time of day has very low crime levels; might I suggest patrolling again at your usual time?_

 

Peter let out a huff of breath in reply, continuing his movement deeper into the city. He didn’t stop until he reached the rail way tracks at the edge of town.

 

**_Initiating Protocol: 2 cool 4 skool_ **

_Jesus, Tony,_ Peter shook his head at the code name. Despite the fact that some of the names were actually comedy gold, he still didn’t appreciate the fact that most of the protocols made him feel like an inadequate child who was just playing the hero. As Peter read the text that flashed across the heads up display in his suit, his stomach clenched sickeningly, reminding him both that he had skipped lunch (yet again) and that he was quite possibly making a huge mistake by skipping third period.

 

Before long, Peter was sure he could hear the heavy thrum of the Iron Man suit making its way towards him. Judging by the way Karen was keeping suspiciously quiet about the fact that Tony was in the area, Peter could only assume that he was about to have a visitor. He was more than a little annoyed that his AI had tattled on him.

 

Sure enough, it didn’t take long for Tony to land next to Peter, shedding his suit as he did so. ‘So,’ he said harshly. ‘I’d like to remind you that May and I agreed you could keep the suit as long as it didn’t interfere with school work.’

 

Peter pushed out a heavy breath, turning away from his mentor so as not to see the expression on his face.

 

‘You listening to me Parker? You skip school, we take the suit.’

 

‘No,’ Peter whispered, his throat already beginning to tighten with the threat of tears. ‘ _Please no,_ anything but the suit Mr Stark. _Please_.’ Without thinking, Peter dragged his nails harshly across his forearms, despite the fact that the gloves and suit meant that there was little benefit to his actions.

 

Tony shook his head, sitting heavily on a wall nearby. ‘Then talk to me. What’re you doing missing lessons?’

 

‘I –’ Peter began, not really sure where to start. ‘School was too loud.’ He finished lamely.

 

‘So you just decided to take off instead of figuring out how to cope?’

 

Peter let out a short laugh; _isn’t that how I deal with every problem Tony?_ He wanted to ask. ‘Not exactly.’ He said instead, his eyes flicking in Mr Stark’s direction for a fraction of a second before they began scanning the horizon. ‘I just – I couldn’t miss two days of patrol, and given that I wasn’t going to be able to learn anything in school I figured I could just –’

 

There was a short pause in which Tony seemed to be trying to get his head around the situation. ‘Right.’ He said absently. ‘Just this once, I’ll take pity on you. Really, I should be grounding you for this –’

 

‘Isn’t that May’s job? I thought you two had a good-cop-bad-cop thing going on.’

 

‘– but if this is a one off then I’ll let it slide. You can come back to the compound with me,’ Tony checked his watch, half to trying to cover the smug look on his face at Peter’s comment about his and May’s co-parenting style. He really was way too soft with the kid. ‘Sam will be there by the time we get back anyway. Happy will be around in a second with the car.’

 

‘ _Or_ ,’ Peter said, drawing the word out, ‘you could let me patrol for like – _half an hour_ – and fly us back to HQ?’

 

Tony snorted. ‘Watch it, dipshit; I’m trying to be lenient here. Imagine what May would say about this.’ The amusement in his tone finally made Peter relax for what felt like the first time all day, and he immediately gravitated to his mentor’s side in the hopes of soaking up more of his positive energy.

 

 

 

 

The car ride was much the same – full of Tony trying his best to make Peter laugh, or say something sarcastic, just in the hopes of seeing the faint spark flicker into life in his kid’s hollow eyes. It wasn’t something he had been used to seeing in the past few months, and the knowledge that _Tony_ was the one to cause it made him swell with pride. He didn’t usually think he was good at something to do with emotions, but Tony was sure that he could keep this up forever if it meant that Peter looked as young and carefree as he did in that moment.

 

Even Happy seemed pleasantly surprised by the boy’s chatter, which was a rare occurrence in car rides these days.

 

Back at the tower, the mood was still light as they greeted Sam in the common room. No one seemed to want to break the spell that had fallen over them that afternoon, and it took another half an hour before Sam finally brought up the topic of why they were there. ‘So you got off school early today, Pete?’ His tone was casual, but it was obvious that he was trying to ease them into a more serious conversation.

 

‘Uh, not exactly.’ Peter replied, blushing slightly.

 

When it was clear that he would say no more on the topic, Tony elaborated instead. ‘This genius decided to skip last lesson and go patrolling instead.’ Sam raised an eyebrow, glancing towards the Peter. It was only then that he realised that Peter was still wearing the spider suit underneath a battered hoodie that was at least three sizes too big. ‘Luckily, Karen let me know what was going on and Happy picked us up a little earlier than planned.’

 

‘Huh.’ Sam said, the surprise that Peter was brave enough to skip school evident in his voice. He glanced down at his hands, hoping not to startle the boy too much. ‘And did you skip before or after you had lunch?’

 

Peter swallowed thickly, suddenly aware of the aching lightness in his gut. It was odd; he often found himself regretting eating – whether it was an extra bite of toast or an entire tub of ice cream on the rare occasion that he let his cravings get the better of him – but he had never regretted _not_ eating before. The avengers seemed to flip everything he thought he knew about himself on its head and it was more than a little disconcerting.

 

‘ _Oh Pete_ ,’ Tony murmured; his silence was enough for them to know the answer. ‘Do you want a cheese toastie?’

 

Peter was aware that Tony wasn’t exactly asking a question; he had only worded it as such so that he felt like he had a choice, despite the fact that they all knew that Peter was about to be forced to eat something. He nodded numbly.

 

‘Tony said you phoned him yesterday. That was really brave of you, kiddo.’ Sam said in a low voice while Tony began cooking.

 

‘I didn’t feel very brave.’

 

Sam hummed, keeping his gaze low so as not to put too much pressure on Peter. ‘Asking for help is pretty damn scary, Pete. I’m really proud of you for reaching out.’

 

‘Me too.’ Tony said, making them both jump as he re-joined the conversation, plate of grilled cheese in hand.

 

Peter forced a fake smile in Tony’s direction, thanking him and taking the smallest slice of sandwich he could see. It set him on edge a little when Sam and Tony also took some food; he was well aware that they’d probably both already had lunch, and were only eating now in an attempt to make him fell less uncomfortable. Somehow, it had the opposite effect.

 

‘So,’ Tony began, speaking around a mouth full of food. ‘We really need to know more about what is going on with you so we can help you, Pete. Is it okay if we ask you some questions?’

 

‘I guess.’ Peter muttered, hyper aware of the fact that he still had yet to bring his slice of sandwich anywhere close to his lips.

 

There was a slight pause in which time Sam and Tony glanced at each other with expressions that Peter couldn’t quite read. He thought that maybe they had assumed it would take more to convince him to open up, but in reality, he just didn’t have the energy to argue.

 

‘Alright,’ Sam said. ‘When did this all start?’

 

‘I was twelve I think.’ Peter had no desire to give anything more than the bare minimum information to the questions he was about to be asked.

 

‘Did something happen around then that triggered it?’

 

Peter thought back to the first day he had hurt himself in the hopes of feeling _something_. At the time, he was willing to do anything to ease the crushing sense of nothingness in his limbs. It was also the year that Flash had arrived at his school; somehow, even then, Flash could see through his nerdy façade and knew that he wasn’t worth anything. ‘Nah, just school stuff.’

 

‘Okay, are you going to be this short with us the entire time?’ Tony asked grumpily, making Peter flinch and drop his sandwich back onto the plate in front of him.

 

‘I just want to answer your questions so this can be over,’ he replied. Peter could feel the tiredness in his bones. These days, he lived in that special depression hell where all he ever wanted to do was sleep. He was _so tired._ Nothing held his interest anymore, and the interrogation he was currently receiving was making talking seem ten times harder than normal.

 

‘Pete, you need to eat something.’ Tony prompted, eyeing the boy’s abandoned food.

 

Peter sighed, taking a small bite.

 

‘Tony said you’re staying here while May works nights, right?’

 

‘Yup.’

 

‘Why didn’t you feel safe to be in the apartment on your own?’

 

Peter’s heart clenched painfully. _Am I being a burden to Mr Stark?_ He asked himself, angrily clenching his fists by his sides. Somehow, Sam’s calm tone and clinical questions were setting his teeth on edge, despite the fact that he had always assumed that he would rather avoid emotions in a conversation like this. ‘I – Tony offered. If it’s too much trouble, I can go home.’

 

‘It’s no trouble at all, Pete.’ Tony shot Sam a look that clearly said _back off_. ‘Sam just wanted to know your reasons behind not wanting to be alone so that we can make sure that you’re safe.’

 

Sometimes it still surprised Peter that Tony could make something so scary seem so simple, especially because most of the time he was running on about three hours sleep at most. ‘Oh – I, uh – I thought I would be more tempted to hurt myself if I was alone and –’ He cut himself off, his heart hammering sickeningly fast in his chest.

 

‘Pete,’ Tony said, sounding tired. ‘Are you sure that’s all it is? Sometimes – sometimes people have – well, they get suicidal thoughts when they’re alone. I’m concerned that’s what is really going on here.’

 

Peter gulped in a deep breath of air. This was the question he had always been afraid of Tony asking. It wasn’t as simple as a yes or no answer. He didn’t want to die, but he wasn’t _not_ suicidal either. Hell, a few months ago, he’d even written a note – not that he had ever gotten around to using it (he’d thrown it out as soon as it was finished, sickened by the sudden realisation of what he was doing). Anger bubbled in his gut. _Why did Tony think it was okay to ask that question? What right did he have to know?_ ‘Why are you doing this, Tony?’

 

‘What?’

 

‘Why are you doing this?’ Peter repeated, his voice getting louder. ‘You ignored me for months after Germany. You only started to care after I had caught Toomes for you.’ The mention of the events of homecoming immediately started to fill Peter’s lungs with dust, and the crushing weight of rubble began to overcome his senses. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, praying that the conversation would end before he started freaking out properly. _You’re safe. You’re not trapped. You’re not going to die._ He told himself over and over.

 

‘Hey, hey,’ Tony whispered, shock evident in his voice. ‘I made a mistake, Peter. You’re right. And I am so unbelievably sorry for the hurt I caused you. I will do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Believe me, I couldn’t imagine my life now without looking out for our friendly neighbourhood spider man.’ There was a moment of silence, where the only sound was Peter’s panicked breaths. ‘We’re gonna need you to take some deep breaths now alright? In – and out. Good. In – and out. Just focus on that for a minute.’

 

Somehow, Tony’s soothing voice made the concrete dust recede slightly from Peter’s lungs, and he could no longer feel the iron girder digging into the small of his back. ‘Thanks,’ he said eventually, once his breathing had mostly evened out.

 

‘No problem. Are you okay to carry on this conversation now?’

 

Peter blushed. Everyone seemed to treat him like he was about to break these days, and no matter how true that might have been, the knowledge that no one thought he could cope still stung. ‘Yes.’

 

‘Tony and I were talking earlier, kid, and we thought that something which might help you would be to get rid of the sharps in your room. That way, it might be easier to talk to someone instead of just head for your normal coping technique. What do you think?’

 

Peter frowned. Hadn’t he asked for help the day before despite the fact that he had a blade hidden in the bottom of his backpack? ‘I’m not sure.’ The thought of willingly giving up his tools was too much to bear.

 

‘What about if one of us checked your room for blades? That way you wouldn’t have to get rid of them yourself?’ Sam suggested, as if reading Peter’s mind.

 

‘Okay,’ Peter said quickly, not wanting to let Sam and Tony down. After all, they were trying their best to help him. ‘But can we make some rules?’

 

‘What did you have in mind?’ Tony asked.

 

‘Well I – you can’t use any tech to help you search. Not even Friday. And you have to let me know when you’re going to do it so that I can make sure I’m not around then.’

 

‘That sounds reasonable,’ Sam agreed. ‘What about if I checked now? Tony could take you out to Dunkin’ or Starbucks or something, and I can just do a quick search. We all know that I’m about as good at technology as Steve, so you won’t have to worry about me having any extra help.’

 

Peter nodded. In the back of his mind, he suspected that Sam’s suggestion for Tony to take him out was more to ensure that he actually ate something other than one bite of grilled cheese, but he was willing to let it slide. In truth, the idea that Sam and Tony were trying so hard to help him made something warm start to bloom in his chest, and the crushing weight on his lungs receded just a fraction more.

 

Certainly, things were not okay – far from it in fact – but walking down the street with Tony by his side made Peter realise that it was starting to feel like he could be okay in the future. Maybe he would be able to get better if he had people around him to point him in the right direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, i really hope you liked it! any feed back would be much appreciated <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! i know this took a little while to update, but i had some computer troubles, so it wasn't so easy to write! i know i'm sporadic at best at updating this, but i just thought i would let everyone know that i'm off to uni in two weeks, so while i will definitely be finishing this, and continuing to write, the updates might take a little longer!   
> As always, this contains discussions of self harm and eating disorders, so please keep yourselves safe <3

As much as he hated to admit it, Peter was afraid of going back to the tower with Tony. Sure, recovery felt more achievable now that he had eaten an entire doughnut with minimum encouragement from his mentor, but the uncertainty of what was awaiting him in his room was twisting his stomach into knots, and making his hands twitchy. The real fear was how many blades Sam had found; Peter didn’t know whether it would be worse to find them all gone or find that some were waiting for him.

 

As soon as they arrived back at the tower, Peter excused himself and hurried to his room before he could have any more awkward conversations with the adults that were now apparently acting as both parental figures and therapists. If someone had told him a year ago that his childhood heroes would be helping him with his biggest secret, he would have laughed in their face. _After all, Peter Parker wasn’t worth all that effort, right?_

 

Once back in his room, it was obvious that Sam’s search had been thorough. Everything was moved just enough to make it seem _wrong_. Sure, at first glance, no one would be able to tell that anything had been changed, but the more Peter took in his surroundings, the more uncomfortable he became; it felt like Sam had discovered all his secrets in the two hours he was allowed to hunt in his room.

 

 Something – call it morbid curiosity – made Peter immediately go to his desk draw, where he kept his most used blade.

 

It was gone.

 

What was worse, Sam had left the neatly folded bandages and stacks of plasters behind. To Peter, it almost felt like he was being reminded of exactly what was missing. Peter let out a harsh breath, scrubbing his hands through his hair and tugging roughly at the roots in a desperate attempt to rid himself of the sickening feeling of loss that was currently crawling its way up his spine.

 

The part of Peter that desperately wanted to see him slip up and return to his well-loved coping mechanism forced his legs onwards to the bathroom. He knelt by the small cabinet under the sink. _Please please please please please,_ he begged, not entirely sure whether he was begging for Sam to have found the blade that was taped to the underside of the middle shelf or not.

 

He reached out a shaking hand and ran his fingers the whole way along the bottom of the shelf. _Nothing._ Of all the places he had hidden blades, Peter had assumed that this one would have been the hardest to find; Sam was obviously more determined to find his tools than Peter had assumed.

 

It was the same for the next three hiding places he tried.

 

Still, there was one last place that might yield what he was looking for.

 

It took double the time that it usually would for Peter to cross to his bed and pull his school bag onto his lap. He had taken to carrying a spare blade wherever he went just after he had become spider man; Peter didn’t quite know why the habit had started, but it certainly helped to settle his jangling nerves.

 

Deep at the bottom of his bag, Peter’s fingers blindly closed around the small pencil case he was looking for. From the feel of it, there was definitely still an abundance of plasters tucked away inside. But it took an extra three minutes, and a lot of deep breathing for Peter to find the courage to unzip the pouch. This was his last hope to find a blade while he was staying with Tony; right then, it didn’t matter that there were at least five more hidden in his apartment with May. This felt like a life or death moment.

 

Buried deep within the mess of plasters, Peter found what he was looking for. The weight of it in his hand filled him with adrenaline. _I could use this right now,_ he told himself.

 

Certainly, the idea of giving in to the violent call for blood was strong – and definitely tempting – but Peter was more than aware of the reasons that his tools had been taken away from him in the first place. _He was meant to be fucking trying to get better._ There was no way he was about to fall at the first hurdle. Even if he wasn’t as strong or as brave as spider man, Peter Parker wasn’t about to let Tony down by proving that he was ill advised to trust him not to hurt himself.

 

He shoved the blade back into the little bag, and intern hid it at the very bottom of his back pack.

Peter needed a distraction.

 

First, he tried scrolling through Twitter. Despite the fact that MJ’s sarcastic tweets always made him feel better, it wasn’t enough to keep his mind from wandering back to the small strip of metal in hidden away in his school bag.

 

Next, Peter attempted to finish his maths homework, but he was too distracted for any of the equations to make sense, and after his fifth attempt to expand a simple set of brackets, he had to concede defeat.

 

Peter was getting desperate before he remembered the one thing that always seemed to slow his heart rate just enough that he could go without cutting. It was something May had taught him when he was young, and it had just sort of _stuck_.

 

He padded across the room to his desk, still dragging his shaking fingers through his hair in a desperate attempt to calm down. In the second draw down (Peter tried not to think about the medical supplies just inches away in the draw above) was a half knitted scarf – a Christmas present for May. Peter removed it carefully, and carried the needles and wool back to his bed.

 

The rhythmic counting and soft click of the needles quickly began to wipe away Peter’s anxiety, and he could almost imagine being huddled in between Ben and May, watching some cheesy movie and making scarves as presents for his friends (Peter stopped making his friends presents as soon as Flash had found out that he had made Ned’s lumpy bobble hat and scarf). Something so domestic felt like a life time away these days; after Ben had died, everything had changed, and there were some days that Peter wondered if his uncle would even recognise him anymore.

 

Peter had never stopped knitting, however. Instead, he did it in secret, saving his projects for when he most needed a distraction from the desperate need that had him itching to crawl out of his own skin. Mostly, he made things to keep May warm – hats, scarves, even the occasional pair of socks.

 

It wasn’t long, however, until Peter heard a soft knock on the door, followed by Tony’s unmistakable voice, ‘hey kiddo,’ he called, entering the room as he did so. ‘I just wanted to check you were alright up here by yourself and –’ Tony cut himself off, making his way closer to the bed. ‘Are you – _are you knitting?_ ’ He asked incredulously.

 

Peter let out a long suffering sigh. ‘Oh god, I was hoping you would never find out about this.’

 

Tony gasped in mock offence, clutching his heart. ‘I’m hurt, Pete, _hurt_ , that you would think I would tease you about something so – so _normal_ for a fifteen year old boy.’

 

‘Sixteen,’ Peter corrected.

 

‘Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I meant a hundred and fifteen.’ Tony said, chuckling at Peter’s eye roll. He sat down carefully on the edge of the bed.

 

‘Your jokes aren’t funny, Stark.’ Peter replied grumpily, his mind already returning to counting stitches.

 

Tony hummed quietly, watching as Peter began to knit again. ‘How do you even know how to do this?’

 

‘May taught me.’ Peter stated simply, smiling at the memory. ‘She used to say I had twitchy fingers – could never sit still – so she taught me this in the hopes it would help me focus and I – I enjoy doing it.’ He purposely avoided the fact that the reason he gets restless these days isn’t because of a sugar rush anymore – it’s because something in his head is trying it’s hardest to tear him apart.

 

‘So it’s a distraction technique?’

 

‘It didn’t start out that way.’ Peter defended quickly, his voice loud even to his own ears.

 

‘Woah,’ Tony held his hands up in surrender, ‘I never said it did.’

 

Peter continued to knit in silence for a few seconds, before he couldn’t stand the amount of questions that were hanging in the air between them. ‘In – in the beginning, I used to just make shitty presents for my friends. I wasn’t very good then, see, but I liked putting effort into the gifts, and Ned liked that I made him a new scarf every year.’ He paused, licking his lips and wondering whether to continue. ‘But then, after Ben – we couldn’t always afford stuff. Like heating or electricity, so May and I would make hats and all to keep us warm. The shitty Walmart wool was cheaper than any shop brought scarf we could find, and it was nice to do something together. Sometimes, if we were lucky, we could take apart one of our jumpers if it had a hole in and reuse the wool to make something _really nice_.’ Peter smiled, blushing slightly.

 

Tony knew that May and the kid had money troubles sometimes, but hearing the way that Peter spoke about reusing old jumpers really made the point hit home: Tony – who had never experienced anything other than wealth – could never truly relate to Peter’s experience. So he chose to remain silent.

 

‘When all of the stuff with my anxiety started happening, this was one of the only ways I could calm down that didn’t involve –’ Peter cut himself off, not wanting to remind Tony of exactly why they were in their current situation.

 

‘Is it a bad night?’

 

Peter nodded mutely and tried to ignore the way Tony sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face.

 

Somehow, when Tony had nights where his hands shook, and he jumped at the slightest sound, it never felt _embarrassing_ to hear him admit that it was a Bad Night, but saying it himself made Peter want to crawl somewhere dark and never get up again.

 

‘Do you want to talk?’ It was the same phrase that Peter used whenever Tony was too restless to sit still while they worked together in the lab.

 

‘Not right now,’ Peter said, desperately trying to resist the urge to tug at his hair once more. Tony shifted on the bed as if he was about to stand, and Peter desperately attempted to form a coherent sentence to get him to stay, ‘but if you wanted to – I mean, if you have time – you could stay and watch a movie? That – that would be cool.’

 

Tony’s expression softened, and he rested his hand on Peter’s knee in a far too fatherly manner, ‘sure, kid.’

 

It didn’t take long for Peter to convince Tony to watch Bake Off with him, and he had a sneaking suspicion that his mentor secretly watched the show anyway, given that he seemed to know all the contestants’ names.

 

The soft glow of Peter’s laptop made the room feel cosy, and Tony’s little gasps and comments about what was happening reminded Peter of Uncle Ben in the best, not-at-all-sad kind of way. By the time they had watched three episodes, Peter was comfortably sleepy, and had let his knitting drop into his lap without much thought.

 

‘Bed time,’ Tony announced just as Peter was about to agree to watch the next episode.

 

He glanced at his mentor, a scandalised look on his face, ‘but the next episode is bread week!’

 

For a split second, it almost seemed like Tony was considering admitting defeat, until he noticed the clock on the laptop. ‘Jesus, Pete, it’s gone midnight! May’s gonna kill me if she finds out I let you stay up this late on a school night!’ Tony rose from his spot next to Peter and moved the mess of wool and needles to the bedside table. ‘We’ll watch it as soon as you get home from school tomorrow, yeah? Hell, maybe I’ll even go to the bakery ‘round the corner and get some bread to eat while we watch it. That show makes me too hungry.’

 

Peter grinned, watching as Tony made his way to the door. For the first time in a very long time, it didn’t feel as if a hole was being ripped in his chest when someone he loved left him alone. ‘Hey,’ he called just as his mentor was reaching to turn off the light, ‘thanks for everything, Tony. It really means a lot.’

 

Even in the dim light, Peter could see Tony’s face soften. ‘Don’t mention it,’ he murmured, flicking off the light switch.

 

The last thing Peter remembered hearing that evening was a softly whispered _night, grandma_ , just as Tony shut the door. Instead of making him feel embarrassed, the gentle joke just increased the warmth in his bones – something he had not felt in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, i know that this might seem out of character, with the whole knitting thing, but really, its the only coping mechanism i've found that works for me, so i thought i would put it out there in case anyone else is looking out for something to try. i really hope you enjoyed this chapter, so please let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that i am in no way encouraging anyone using these coping mechanisms, and this will be a fic about learning to live with these issues. they won't magically dissapear by the end of this, but i hope it will give an accurate portrayal of recovery! I really hope you liked this! The next chapter shouldn't take too long to update


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